


The wrath of heaven

by Umerue



Series: Mythal's quest [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Bromance, Dalish, Drama, Elven Glory, Elven Lore, Elvhen Pantheon, F/M, Gen, Humor, Love, M/M, Magic, Not Beta Read, Religion, Romance, The Fade, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 52
Words: 230,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umerue/pseuds/Umerue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Once I was but a woman, crying in the lonely dark for justice. An ancient wisp of being came to me, offering all I wanted and more."</p><p>In Crestwood, Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan agreed to become a vessel for Mythal and wield her orb. She was promised justice to the People in return for vengeance against those who had betrayed Mythal. But godhood is different from inside, and the time for small measures is gone. She is going to change the fate of the People, no matter what the cost.</p><p>Solas struggles with the results of his earlier choices. He can no longer run away, but taking back his true name is not an easy task. Even if he could harden his heart against the stories of the Dalish, the People need his leadership to survive, and carrying the responsibility of their fate is something he never wanted to have again.</p><p>Elgar'nan wakes up in world gone mad, only to find out everything has changed. He thinks the only way to save the People is to let Thedas burn and start building again. It was done once; it can be done again. He is the Eldest of the Sun, and he will have his world back.</p><p>Includes stolen griffons, Tevinter bathhouses, lots of smutty literature and elfy elfiness. AU. Sequel to Bog Unicorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vhenadal

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Bog Unicorn, and picks up roughly seven, eight months after Bog Unicorn ends. I recommend reading that first to make sense of what has happened. This is the second part of trilogy, and I have a rough outline planned for whole story although it isn't finished yet. Comments usually spark ideas and I like to run with them, so feel free to ask and suggest.
> 
> You can expect updates once or twice a week. 
> 
> The name of the story is stolen from the Chant. 
> 
> Those who oppose thee  
> Shall know the wrath of heaven.  
> Field and forest shall burn,  
> The seas shall rise and devour them,  
> The wind shall tear their nations  
> From the face of the earth,  
> Lightning shall rain down from the sky,  
> They shall cry out to their false gods,  
> And find silence.
> 
> -Andraste 7:19

The vhenadahl tree in the Ath Velanis was burning. It was nothing more than a sapling, really, planted by Cyrion when he was brought with alienage women to this cursed place. Bringing her father here had been one of Kallian's mistakes. She could not leave him behind in Miranthous, and fucking the magister's apprentice for letting her father to join them had felt like a good deal then, but it wasn't worth it. Nothing in Tevinter was a good deal.  
"You have been chosen for great glory.", magister's voice was loud. "This fortress was used by Malgorthios the Black to sacrifice women to Old Gods to bring forth powerful magic used to serve our Empire. I need nothing more than your blood, and your screams. You may choose five of you now, and five in the morning."  
There were thirty women from Denerim, and Cyrion, encircled by magister, his apprentice and three dozen soldiers. Soris had fallen to sickness during the horrible journey to Tevinter, and Kallian thought he had been lucky. Lucky not to see there were worse things than living in Denerim alienage.  
"We don't care a shit about your glory.", Shianni said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't own us, shem!"  
"You will not take us.", Kallian threatened, and pulled her dagger from her clothes. Fang of Fen'Harel, a keepsake from her mother's family, was only weapon they had, but by Maker, they would not go down without fight.  
"I do not care why you will scream.", magister replied with cold amusement. "All I care is that you will scream."  
He lifted his staff, and Kallian jumped.

 

Kallian knew how to fight. She had been taught by her mother, but her mother had never faced mages. She never had a chance. All it took was one spell from magister, and her own weapon was pressed against her neck. It drew agonizingly slow, bloody trail across her throat, pressing deeper with each breath.  
"No, no, no!", she heard Cyrion crying. "Not my daughter! Maker, Mythal, anyone, please help us!!"  
Kallian was not going to scream. She was not going to die with her eyes closed. She was not going to fear - but then she saw the sky above her being ripped open. A flash of green, and a woman stepped out, accompanied by three other women. They all were elves.  
The first woman took one look at magister and his men, and the burning vhenedahl. Her form flickered, changing, and then there was a great green dragon, roaring in anger. It was magic, but Kallian did not care, because the dragon grabbed the magister from ground, and she could hear the satisfying crack when the dragon's jaws broke the man's spine. At the same time, the dragon woman's companions launched attack on the soldiers.  
"You wanted screams?", Kallian shouted with mad glee. The dagger was in her hand again, and the shems were _going to bleed_.

 

When it was all over, Kallian looked around. The walls of ice the two mages had erected during the battle had saved Denerim elves from the worst, but there were many wounded. Even the dragon, which had landed down, had a spear stuck between it's scales. One of her companions, a tall elf woman in ornate armor, was climbing on dragon's back, probably to dislodge it.  
The tattooed warrior kneeled at Elna's side. Kallian had never liked Elna, who had always been a vicious in her envy and rude in her drunkenness, but she was from Denerim, and one of theirs.  
"Fiona.", the warrior called. "Can you help her? She is the worst."  
An older, dark-haired woman in mage robes hurried to Elna, and started healing her.  
"I could use a hand here.", the tall elf standing on dragon's back shouted. Kallian blinked and hurried to dragon. It was a giant beast, which looked at her with blue eyes. She had not known dragons had blue eyes. But then, Kallian noted, she had never seen an elf turn into dragon either.  
The scales were rough under her feet, as she climbed on dragon's back. The slashes on her arms hurt, but they were superficial injuries and could wait. In Tevinter, a slave learned quickly to judge how deeply one could be cut and still function.  
"Pull with me on third.", the tall elf said. She had a tree tattooed on her forehead.  
"Are you Dalish?", Kallian asked as she took a good hold from the spear. "A mage? A warrior?" She had seen the tall woman use magic in the battle, but she was wearing a heavy metal armor, and her skills with a bow could put anyone at shame.  
"No. You may call me Melana. One - two - three!", she commanded, and they pulled.   
The spear got loose, and brought a flow of dark, almost black blood with it.  
"Watch it. Dragon's blood changes people.", Melana warned. She studied the bloody spear in her hand and shook her head as she wiped it clean with a thick cloth and then threw the weapon away.  
"Abelas will have my hide for this.", she muttered, but slid down from dragon's back.   
Kallian followed her example, and it was a good thing, because as soon as they were on the ground again, the dragon changed, and the woman stood in it's place.

 

The dragon woman turned to elves, and said:  
"I can take you to safety and freedom, but the journey will not be easy."  
"Who are you?", Shianni demanded in shaky voice. "You ripped a hole in the sky. Why did you come here?"  
"I was called.", the woman said simply. She closed her eyes for a short moment, and then smiled, pointing at crowd of elves. "By you."  
Kallian turned to look, and saw her father standing there, his mouth gaping open with astonishment.  
"I didn't.", Cyrion said, stammering.   
"You did.", the woman said. "And I answered. But we cannot linger here. Will you follow?"  
"We will.", Kallian said, stepping forwards.  
"We can't! What if this is just a trick? What if she is going to sacrifice us or something?", Valora said, hugging herself. Her face was bloody, and she shivered.  
"We will die anyway if we stay here!", Shianni snapped. "They will blame us for death of the magister, and we will never get out of Tevinter by our own. You will come, or I will drag you with me, do you hear?"  
Valora didn't answer. She started to cry, instead.  
"We all will come. Do your thing, whatever it is, if it gets us to safety.", Kallian announced.  
"Good. Gather around me, and do not stray, whatever happens.", the woman said, and ripped the sky open again.

 

"What is this place?", Kallian asked, looking around the odd landscape. She could see a black, walled city in the distance, but everything was twisted and wrong, frightening.  
"We are in the Fade.", the tattooed warrior offered. She, a tall elven warrior and the dark-haired mage did not look worried at all.  
"Fade? Don't tell me we are going to storm the golden city and become darkspawn?", Shianni grimaced.  
"I hope you are not going to, because then I'd have to kill you.", the warrior shrugged. "It comes with the job."  
"What job?", Cyrion asked. He still looked dazed.  
"I'm a Grey Warden. The name is Lyna Mahariel. Nowadays, I'm mostly working for her.", the Warden nodded towards glowing woman who was leading their sorry group through the narrow paths. Kallian noticed she stopped once a while, and leaned on her staff for support as she waited everyone to reach her.  
"If you are the Hero of Ferelden, and you work for her, who is she?", Kallian asked suspiciously.  
"It depends on whom you ask.", Mahariel replied. "To my people, she is Mythal."  
"Mythal?", Cyrion repeated, his old, grizzled face turning pale.  
"You called for Mythal's help, did you not?", Mahariel queried.  
"But...", Cyrion was loss of words. "It was just a story. Another of Adaia's stories."  
"What I like most about our Mythal, is that she has these ideas. Like actually answering when her People cry for help. But the rest of it she leaves to our own hands.", Mahariel replied. "You will see what I mean when we get home."

 

The home they had been promised was a collapsing ruin in a forest. There were elves everywhere, hurrying in their tasks. Most of them were working on rebuilding walls, trying to make the ruins defendable, while some were heading deeper in the forest with bows. There were groups of children sitting on the benches, listening the old woman speaking to them. Kallian looked around her, curious. There were tents, and shelters, probably hundreds of elves, but no single shemlen anywhere.  
Mythal stepped out from the rift last, and closed it behind her. Leaning on her staff, she addressed their group:  
"I have brought you to Brecilian Forest in Ferelden. You are free to leave, if you want. We can give you an escort to the edge of forest and few supplies to get you started. If you wish to stay and help, you are welcome do so. This is a land granted for the Dalish after Mahariel defeated the Archdemon, and my people stay here for time being."  
"What do you want for payment?", Shianni asked sharply. "You can't kill the magisters, walk us through half of the world and then except us to pick our fate, just like that? No strings attached?"  
"Why not?", Mythal asked calmly. "You asked for my help, and I gave it. I never promised to be your master and decide things for you. Food and shelter will be found for you, and you will not have to decide now. Heal your wounded, ask questions from the people living in here, and then make up your minds. Fiona and Warden Mahariel will see to your needs. Whatever you need, you can ask from Merrill."  
She turned to leave, and her shape changed again, into a white crow. She disappeared between the trees.  
"I ask you not to hunt on your own here.", Fiona started. "As you saw, not all animals in the forest are actually animals. Our hunters know what not to shoot, and we aim to provide food for everyone, although it's mostly plant-based. Those of you who are injured, should follow me, and--"  
Kallian looked at Cyrion, offering her arm for support.  
"Who is Mythal, father?", she asked silently.  
"I don't know.", he admitted, looking unsure. "Your mother always said that Dalish believed Mythal was Great Protector, our mother, fierce and proud. But our gods were lost. They never answered, and we forgot. I never expected..."  
"Well, no matter what she is, we are no longer in Tevinter, uncle.", Shianni said, taking Cyrion's other arm. "We're free and together, and those are only things which matter."


	2. Old friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas returns to Mythal.

"Kallian!", Keeper Merrill shouted. "I have a task for you."  
Relieved for the opportunity to take a break from hauling the rocks to build the defenses, Kallian wiped her sweaty forehead on her sleeve and went to see what Merrill had for her. The Keeper was kind, although Kallian suspected Merrill might have been dropped on her head when she was a baby. No elf could be that naive and stay alive.  
She had been little over three months in the Brecilian Forest. The elven settlement grew daily. More elves arrived after late winter turned into spring, making the travel easier. Mythal continued her raids to Tevinter and other places mercilessly. It was said that she lived somewhere in the forest, but nobody knew for sure. She appeared out of nowhere when she came to collect her warriors, and after the fight, she turned into a white crow and flew away. Not the type staying for a chat, Kallian knew. It didn't stop her from admiring the woman, or goddess, whatever she was. Kallian knew what she wanted to do; she wanted to join Mythal's Blades, the elves who fought by her side to save the people praying for her help. The Dalish had different name for those warriors, and the tall elves who wore fancy armor and Mythal tattoos, snickered at it, but Kallian didn't care about name, only the cause. She had tried the admission test twice, only to get her ass kicked by Abelas, but she would never give up. Never! Hauling rocks was just one way to train.  
Merrill waited for her in a clearing. She was with a bald man, who held mage staff but didn't have tattoos.  
"Kallian, this is Solas, a mage who has just arrived.", Merrill introduced them. "Solas, Kallian is one of our newer recruits. She will show you the way to Abelas."  
"I wanted to meet Mythal, in fact.", Solas said. His voice was pleasant.  
"Don't we all.", Kallian sniffed. "If you are one of the fools trying to worship Mythal, I would forget it. She doesn't have time for that. I'll get you Abelas, and he will set you straight soon enough. Follow."  
She turned and chose one of the paths leading deeper into the forest.  
"Are you against Mythal, then?", Solas asked curiously. "A devout Andrastian, perhaps?"  
"I don't care horse's ass about gods, mage. What I know is that Mythal appeared from the sky, killed the slavers before they killed us, and took a spear in her back for us before leading us to safety and giving us our freedom, free and clear. Seen her doing it for others countless times since. I will die for her any time she asks, and it has nothing to do with religion.", Kallian spat on the ground.  
"I see.", Solas replied. Kallian gave him a suspicious look. She had been a slave for eleven years, and one learned to read faces to survive. Solas had flinched when she mentioned the spear, but the look on his face now was an odd mix of pride, relief and wistfulness.  
"Do you know her? Did she save you too?", Kallian asked.  
"You could say so.", Solas said, a small smile on his lips. "I was the first."  
  


In the heart of the forest was a small house built in a tree, hidden by magic. It was located by a stream, and the sounds of water and birds could be heard through the open window. Ellana Lavellan, currently known as Mythal, sat in her chair, her thin body wrapped in woolen robes, and drank foul-tasting herbal concoction Abelas had made for her. It was supposed to be good for her. Last night's journey through the Fade had been particularly taxing, because magisters were starting to believe rumors about mysterious deaths of those who mistreated their elven slaves. They were better prepared, now. Two of her warriors had died in the fight, giving their lives to protect her. Seeing others die for her never had sat well with her, even if she knew they had saved the lives of eighteen slaves.  
The house was modest compared to Skyhold, and lacked even the comforts of Haven, but she loved it. It had a single, round room built around the tree trunk. The few pieces of furniture they had, mainly a table, bookshelf, two chairs and two armor stands, were made by Abelas, who considered carpentry as his hobby. Zevran, in his blessed sentimentality, had thought to grab her fade-touched wolf furs and some books when he had left Skyhold.  
Having emptied the cup, she put it on the table and closed her eyes to doze for a moment. Using the Orb was not without price. She had lost a lot of weight due the strain to her mortal body, and she had never been curvaceous to start with. The months of rebuilding had been rough, but she had not expected anything else after defeating Corypheus and seeing Solas leave to his own path with his orb. Going separate ways had been necessary for their plan, and a cold sort of blessing to their hearts. Being Mythal was easier when there was nobody who knew her from before. She could forget her regrets, and pretend they did not exist at all.  
Ellana welcomed the fatigue in her bones, which made her eyelids heavy. His bond was nothing but a dying sparkle now, barely hovering on the edge of her vision. Very soon, it would be gone. Night in Halamshiral, and his face when she picked up his crown would grow dim in her mind, and with time, disappear among thousand memories of Mythal and Lavellan. It would make everything easier in a long run. She could give in, and let herself just float in the tides of time and memory. All it needed was a day or two.  
She was just falling asleep, when she heard the screams.

 

 

"Good morning, Abelas.", Kallian shouted the greeting as they got near another ruin. Sentinels had cleared the ancient arches out, and now area served as training grounds. Abelas was studying a large piece of wood in his hands with a scowl on his face. Hearing Kallian's voice, he replied:  
"Anda'ran atishan. You are a stubborn one."  
"This time, I didn't come to get my ass kicked.", Kallian grinned. "I brought a guest."  
Abelas turned to face them, and when he saw Solas, his scowl deepened more than Kallian had thought possible. She couldn't help but to admire it. The man was master of despising expressions.  
"You.", Abelas said, his voice dripping displeasure. "I saw you in a vision this morning, but I hoped it would not come to pass. Turn away. It is not too late. This path will not bring joy."  
"This is no way to greet your son-in-law.", Solas said lightly.  
"That remains to be seen.", Abelas replied frostily.  
Kallian considered the scene in front of her. If Abelas decided to trash Solas, it would be great opportunity to watch his techniques in action. And she was rather curious. She had not known Abelas had a child, especially a child old enough to be married to Solas who looked to be in his forties. No way Abelas could be over sixty. Her father was sixty-one, grey and bent, while Abelas was on his prime.  
Solas did not seem very worried. He was confident in his own power, his posture relaxed. Looking from one man to another, Kallian noticed similarities. They both were broad-shouldered and tall, more like sentinels than the Dalish or city elves. She was just going to ask what their mothers had fed them when they were babies, when she heard a shout.  
"Abelas!", Mythal called him, approaching from the west. "I need you. We have been called."  
When Mythal saw Solas, she stopped where she stood, and for a moment, her usual confidence was stripped away. She was just a woman, unsure and vulnerable.   
"Vhenan.", Solas said, his voice gentle.  
"There is no time for that.", Abelas snapped. "You", he said, turning to Kallian. "may accompany us. Consider this your third and last chance. If you don't die, I will teach you."  
Kallian ran to grab daggers and armor she had used when sparring, feeling the battle rush bubbling in her mind. She knew she was good, and this was her chance to show it. She came back just in time to see Solas pulling a greenish orb from thin air and opening the skies. Her eyes widened, and she wondered how many elves just walked through reality like it was just a city street, but then they were pulled in, and she had no more time to think.

 

 

The voice Ellana heard when she opened a rift was one she had hoped not to hear ever again.  
"This is madness, Ahriman. You cannot kill them all just to find out what happens!", Dorian Pavus, member of Altus class of Tevinter and former member of Inquisition Inner Circle, shouted. The city had to be Qarinus, then.  
"Ignore him, Varania.", the magister snapped at her apprentice.  
"Call Mythal for your protection.", the red-haired elf woman in magister robes commanded the elven slaves held inside a circle of soldiers. Most of them bled from multiple wounds. "Call Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, for your vengeance and victory. Pray to Andruil, pray to Dirthamen, pray to all of them, or the Friend of the Dead will be the one you'll meet."  
"It was only a question of time when one of them would try to betray you.", Abelas remarked quietly to Mythal before turning to Kallian. "Remember you are fighting as a sentinel, not going for the throat like you tend to do. Our job is to keep anyone from reaching Mythal. She will do the rest."  
"What about Solas?", Kallian asked as she stepped out from the rift, blades drawn and ready.  
"He can fend for himself.", Abelas said, and Kallian saw a horrible wolf which jumping from the rift behind Mythal. It was huge, black beast with six red eyes. She shuddered.

 

"I told you shouldn't do this, Ahriman!", Dorian cursed as he saw a woman stepping out from rift. She was holding a mage staff in one hand, and another hand rested lightly on black fur of a wolf, which was high enough to reach her waist.   
"I take this is the infamous Dread Wolf. ", Dorian said, trying to crack a joke. "I thought he locked you all away."  
Inquisitor's lips curved into a serious smile Dorian knew very well, but she didn't take his bait.   
"You talked much about reforming Tevinter, Dorian. Now you must decide whether it was just idle talk or true cause to you. You will either stand with me or against me, but my people will not be sacrificed."  
"Pavus! You never told me you knew who was behind it!", Ahriman exclaimed. "So you are the knife-ear bitch who kills the mages!"  
"My offer of mercy does not extend to you.", Inquisitor said bluntly. "Or your apprentice. If you truly are so eager to invoke ancient spirits, you should remember something about Mythal. What did she do to those who called to her with lies in their hearts?"  
"I didn't!", the elven apprentice denied, panicking.  
"But you did.", Inquisitor said mercilessly, and Dorian saw her eyes turning black, crackling with blue. "Your name is Varania, and this is not your first betrayal. Your brother, Leto, fought to buy freedom for you and your mother. He paid the ultimate price in his master's hands, giving up everything he was. But it was not enough for you. You craved for power and status, and in your ambition, you conspired to recapture your brother for a man who had marked him with lyrium. You failed, but yet again you try to please your master by deaths of your own people."  
The apprentice swallowed, turning pale.  
"You don't understand! Life has been so hard!"  
"Life is hard for everyone. You asked for Mythal's justice. I judge you guilty.", she said, and the wolf lunged. Dorian felt the warm blood spattering all over his clothes and took his staff, cursing the day which had brought him to this. One should never befriend an ancient goddess.

 

The fight was harsh and merciless. Ahriman and his soldiers were not lightweights, and they had expected to be attacked. It ended only after the Inquisitor pulled out her orb, and cast a spell which burnt the Tevinter soldiers into piles of ash. The dust filled the air for a moment, and Dorian coughed, pulling a handkerchief over his face.  
"I helped you. You owe me an explanation, at least. We were friends, and you lied to me.", Dorian demanded as the dust settled.  
"Go to elves. Ask them if they join or stay.", Inquisitor, Mythal, whoever she was, ordered her two fighters. The wolf remained at her side guarding her. She leaned on her staff with both hands, breathing heavily. There was blood on her armor.  
"I know the secret of red lyrium. It's lyrium twisted by taint, held back only by old magic, from the time before your kind.", she stated. "Once, magic was as natural to us as breathing, but our numbers diminish. With each lost spirit, our spells weaken. With each death of an elf, the Blight spreads, gains ground and corrupts. Look through the oldest archives, Dorian. Count our dead, and see it yourself. This is a truth. Blights come sooner now, and they are harsher each time. There are only two Old Gods holding it back, and when the last of them falls, our whole world will be lost."  
"This is.. This is not an explanation I expected, or wanted.", Dorian said helplessly. "You can't just drop something like that on me!"  
"Why not?", Mythal raised her eyebrows, looking amused. "You asked. Archaic riddles are more traditional approach, but it leaves too much room for false interpretations."  
The wolf grinned at Dorian, looking disturbingly humane with it's tongue lolling out. It could have been a pet dog, except for the bloodstained teeth and too many eyes. Maker save his occasionally faithful servant from ancient elvhen gods with sense of humor, Dorian prayed in his mind.  
"You wanted to reform your homeland. Now is the time. This world is on the brink of change, and it is up to you what future will bring to Tevinter. You must decide whether you will bring justice to my people or Blight to yours.", Mythal warned.  
The slaves - former slaves, Dorian corrected - had clearly chosen to put their lot with elven gods, and Dorian could not argue the choice considering what had been the other option. He watched them gathering around Dread Wolf, Mythal and her warriors. Mythal lifted up her anchor hand, opening a rift to the sky, and they disappeared. Dorian stayed behind, staring at the sky. He felt cold. Mythal's explanation was worse than his previous ignorance. What had Solas said once? The greatest curse of Elvhenan had been 'May you learn'. Dorian wholeheartedly agreed.


	3. It was still you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana and Solas discuss their fading bond.

"A word, da'len.", Abelas said as they sat by the stream near their house. It had became something of a habit for them. When they had time and the weather was good, they often spent last hours of the evening there. Abelas spoke of his youth and time before he pledged himself in service of Mythal, and told Ellana stories of his family. Ellana described her life before Conclave, her childhood and the members of her clan. It had been a tentative, fragile thing at first. It was impossible to bridge the distance created by separation of almost thirty years, godhood and several Ages, but both of them were willing to try, and it was enough for now.   
"What is it, father?", Ellana asked.  
"In my experience..", Abelas started, but stopped abruptly. He sighed, drew a breath and began again: "There is no way to say this politely, so I don't even try. When one serves another for eons, it's impossible to hold illusions of each other. Mythal's murder changed her. She saw you as instrument for her revenge, not as a way to return to what she was in her prime. What has been built here is just a start, and we might lose everything still, but I think it was a blessing that Fen'Harel's magic ruined your possession. The Mythal I remember after fall of Arlathan would not have saved her people. Because she was less than she had been, Mythal convinced herself there was nothing she could do. You never accepted it, but tried nonetheless, and succeeded. I am immensely proud of what you have become, da'len. But he might not see it like I do."  
"I know.", she said, helpless.   
"But you should give him a chance to accept what happened, and move on.", Abelas stated. His golden eyes were not unkind as he looked at her. "As long as you don't fall for his excuses again."

 

It is already dark when she heard a whistle from the forest. She opened a window, and leaned on the frame, looking down. Solas stood there, his white pullover light in the shadows, and Ellana felt warmth blooming inside her spirit.   
"I was wondering if I could have words with Mythal.", he asked.  
"Sadly, Mythal does not live here.", she replied. "It's just me and my father. If you want Mythal, you have to go elsewhere. Maybe you could search for a hidden temple or old altar."  
"Ah. I see.", Solas said, and the happiness in his voice was real, almost tangible thing. "I have to say I am not disappointed at slightest. I can look for Mythal later."  
"Father is not home.", she offered, enjoying the play. "There is a shortage of places to sleep with all these former slaves. I have excellent wolf furs I could share with you, if you are interested."  
"I believe I am.", he said, his elven eyes glinting in the dark. His form shifted, turning into a bird, and he flew up to her window.

 

Ellana heard the soft thump of his feet touching the floor from behind her, and she closed the shutters. She felt nervous. Light, flirtatious words were easy when he had been standing on the ground and she was up in a tree, but losing the distance made her feel unsure. Last time she had spoken alone with Solas had been immediately after defeating Corypheus, seven months ago. It had been a discussion colored by regrets from both sides. She had given his orb back to him and they had agreed on what to do next. He would continue searching for devices to control the Veil while she started rallying the elves. Then they had gone to separate ways.  

What should one say in this situation? Not even Varric's smutty novels gave any advice to woman, who became ancient goddess after breakup. She did not know what Solas thought of her or why he had came here. She loved him still, but Ellana knew she was no longer Lavellan Solas had fallen in love with. She was more, with memories of Fen'Harel Lavellan had never known. She remembered him young, cocky and fierce, always proud. Elgar'nan had enjoyed provoking him, and Fen'Harel had laughed when annoyed Mythal ended up hitting Elgar'nan on the head with her staff to keep him in line. She remembered his ascendance, countless meetings of gods, and his rebellion.  
It was impossible to separate those memories from Lavellan's after Cole had helped them to heal Mythal's pain. The spirit had taken separating edges away and made her whole. The merging of them was complete now, and nothing could undo it. Ellana grieved for Elgar'nan and their children and at the same time her heart was raw and bleeding for losing Solas. She accepted her fate, and was content in some manner, but getting rejected again by him would cut deep. She remembered how he had shielded himself with his hands, to stop her from touching him in Crestwood glade, and Ellana didn't want to see it happening again.

"Vhenan.", Solas said, turning her around by shoulders. "We must talk."  
"Suddenly I don't feel so brave.", Ellana said, trying to smile but failing.  
"I have to admit that our last discussion in Crestwood was not.. easy.", Solas said.  
"No, it wasn't.", she said sadly. "And I'm sorry for lashing out at you in the Fade before the battle. I wasn't.. I had promised not to do it. I always knew you were going to leave. Getting provoked by Mythal's memories from your meeting was not a reason to claim you knew nothing about love."  
Steeling herself with great effort, Ellana took a breath and said:  
"I am not the person you fell in love with. The choices I made cannot be undone and this is what I am now, for good or ill. I cannot forsake my People for you. They need me. What I feel for you hasn't changed, but I understand I am not what I was. We will break the bond and--"  
"Shh.", Solas said, pressing finger on her lips. "Listen to what you say. Every single thing you said could come from my lips. You fell in love with false name I gave you."  
"It was still you. No matter what you called yourself.", Ellana said, her eyes filling with tears.  
"And you are still you. Mythal or not.", Solas said, taking her hands in his. "Everything I've seen here, this place you have built, elves here.. It's all you. Believe me, Ellana, I have had time to think this through. There were days I thought little else. I know you have changed. But you must understand that there are other sides of me I never showed you during our time together. Memories of ages past, things I am not proud of, but those actions, those thoughts _are me_ as much as the part of me you know."  
"I remember some of them.", Ellana said calmly.  
"I suspected that much.", Solas nodded. "Seeing into hearts of People was always Mythal's gift. We all have our dark mirror as well as the bright one. Denying that is useless. But what I'm trying to say, vhenan, is that you loved me although you knew my true name. I don't believe it was easy, considering all those Dalish stories about me."  
"I was probably the worst Keeper in the history of Dalish.", Ellana admitted with a smile. "Being the herald of shemlen faith was bad enough, but falling in love with Dread Wolf?"  
"You were the most enlightened Dalish Keeper I've ever met.", Solas corrected. "Vhenan, I love you even if you hold Mythal's divinity and power inside you. I don't care what comes with it. What I care about is your spirit, and it calls to me just as strongly as before. My feelings for you have not changed. I do not want to break the bond. I want to keep it."  
  


 

 


	4. Fame and fortune in Tevinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian gets grounded by his mother, who has read Varric's book.

"Though all before me is shadow / Yet shall the Maker be my guide. / I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.", Dorian whispered, kneeling in the family chapel. His lips formed the familiar words he had been taught as a boy, but only emptiness answered.  
Dorian heard the door being pushed open, but didn't turn. It was his mother, and he didn't want to talk with her. If he was lucky, she would grow bored and go away.  
"For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light / And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

"I never thought your time in the southern lands would make you religious.", his mother Livia noted. "You are starting to remind me of your great-uncle. He used to entertain ideas of priesthood."  
"I've had my fill of religion lately, mother.", Dorian said, rising up."And dead relatives are not very entertaining. The conversation became dreadfully one-sided after father decreed that it was forbidden to use necromancy while paying my respect to dead magisters."  
"An average corpse is more entertaining than your aunt Licinia.", Livia agreed. "But I didn't come all this way to discuss your father's relatives with you. I have a need of you."  
"I hope this is not another plot to get me married to well-bred girl and live the rest of my days in misery?", Dorian asked acidly.  
"The future of house Pavus is not my chief concern.", his mother replied. "I have a need of your expertise in a business venture."  
Dorian groaned. His mother was a heiress of wealthy and influential house in her own right, and Livia's chief amusement was buying the estates of dead mages and picking them clean. She had uncanny ability to predict who was going to fall from favor. It was said in court that Livia Pavus asking about your holdings was a divine sign to write up your testament.  
"What is it this time?", Dorian asked. "You suddenly own an artifact which will return Tevinter to it's former glory?"  
"I'm not sure.", his mother said. "The deal was too good to resist. A perfectly good fortress in excellent strategic location sold for a pittance! The seller claimed it's cursed. The latest owner died in slave rebellion three months ago, and Aurelius Titus who owned the place before that was killed by a group of southern adventurers four years ago."  
"Aurelius Titus? That odd man with no family or lands to speak of?", Dorian's curiosity was piqued. "I remember Alexius saying that Titus was a Dreamer?"  
"Yes.", Livia said, unconcerned. "Whether it was true or not, I don't know. What I do know that I own the keep called Ath Velanis, where Titus' old apprentice still lives. The seller claimed the young man is a Dreamer as well. It might be just a talk to sweeten the deal, but if it is true, he could be an excellent asset. His name is Feynriel, with no family or connections in Tevinter."  
"Feynriel.", Dorian tasted the name on his tongue. "It is uncommon name. Somewhat elvish."  
"Yes, but he is human. Only he and one human slave were left behind when elves revolted and killed the mage who held the keep. A mysterious thing. I suspect the Dreamer apprentice killed his new master.", Livia shrugged.  
"You have woken up my curiosity, mother.", Dorian admitted. "What do you need me for?"  
"I want you to travel to Seheron, find out whether the apprentice is truly a Dreamer and assess the value of the keep."  
"Seheron? It is a war zone!"  
"I've understood you have no fear of the Qunari after your adventures in south." his mother informed him acidly and took a book from her purse, pushing it to Dorian's hands. "Your father and I agree that Seheron is excellent place for you until everyone forgets the memorable sex scene on page 261. Preferring the company of men was bad enough, but I never thought your tastes ran to one-eyed Qunari mercenaries. The slaves are already packing your belongings, and the coach waits in the yard. I hope you enjoy your time in Ath Velanis."  
Dorian stared at the book in his hands, unable to say anything as his mother glided away. _The Tale of Inquisitor_ by Varric Tethras. That cursed dwarf. The cover featured quite good likeness of the Inquisitor sitting on her throne in Skyhold, and seeing her blue eyes looking straight at him did nothing to improve Dorian's mood.

 

The journey to Seheron was long and boring. The coach took him to harbor, and there was nothing to do aboard the ship except to read the scandalous book his mother had so kindly gifted him. Dorian wrote his name on the first page and then proceeded to add personal notes on every page featuring him and Iron Bull having sex. If the court was talking about his illicit affair, they should know all the details. Varric had left some parts too general for Dorian's taste. He was an Altus, and Altus mage would not be bound to bed with _hemp rope_ like some common servant. And everyone should know that if he left his underwear behind as a convenient excuse to return, it was always silk. 

It was odd to read the events of his life written neatly down. Varric was an awful liar, who often changed the details - especially when the truth was modest and boring compared to his story - but his facts were mostly right. Dorian was just reading the part about Mythal's temple, and something in the description of Abelas pricked his memory. Varric had not mentioned that Abelas was Lavellan's father, preferring to write a tragic figure who mourned for his lost empire and was hostile towards the Inquisitor. But the golden eyes and long face were Abelas as Dorian remembered him. He never forgot powerful thighs or a haughty nose --- Oh! He had seen those shoulders not long ago. Abelas had accompanied Mythal and her wolf when they had attacked Ahriman. 

The funny thing about Varric's book was that Solas came out much more suspicious than Lavellan. He was the one with mysterious past and odd talents, yet she was the one who was secretly an ancient elven goddess in disguise. Dorian shook his head. Marvellous deception, really. He wondered if Mythal in elven tales had ridden an undead horse. There was so little he knew about elven lore; there were no Dalish in Tevinter the slaves didn't know anything about their own background. But if Mythal was loose, and Dorian was quite sure that the great wolf he had seen with her was Fen'Harel, where were the rest of them?

 

\--

 

Seheron was a disgusting place. It was a humid jungle with no comforts to speak of, and Dorian decided to write his mother and tell her that Ath Velanis was perfect summer house to host a soiree to her friends. Actually, it was creepy old fortress with history in blood magic sacrifices going back for four hundred years.  
Titus' former student, Feynriel was a pleasant young man from Kirkwall with no future or prospects, so Dorian liked him enormously the moment they met and agreed to take him as his apprentice. If he was going to reform Tevinter from inside out, he would need supporters, and Feynriel _was_ a genuine Dreamer. Besides, it would annoy his mother enormously. Livia could not trade his son's apprentice away to highest bidder without making a huge scandal.  
The woman, Calpernia, was a slave who had belonged to recently dead magister Erasthenes. Erasthenes had been an expert of Old Gods, who also had been suspected of Venatori connections. After Corypheus' defeat, he had decided that the air in Miranthous was unhealthy for a man like him, and bought Ath Velanis to further his studies on history and relics. Then, roughly four months ago, Erasthenes had gotten a bright idea of wanting to redo the rites of Malgorthios the Black and sacrifice screaming women to Old Gods. Sadly he had purchased a group of elves.  
"I'm truly sorry, Altus, but I don't know what happened to my master.", Calpernia said, her face pale and clearly expecting the worst. "I was working with Feynriel in the cellars. We were repairing Magrallen on my master's orders, and by the time we started to wonder why nobody came to us, it was too late."  
"It was probably a good thing you didn't know what happened.", Dorian stated. He had a very clear idea of what might have happened, and it was something he preferred to forget. If he started to think about it too closely, he would be too worried to sleep, and spend whole night kneeling in the chapel and prattling prayers to the Maker.

  

Dorian could not deny that going through keep's storage rooms was interesting experience. The vaults were full of curious things Titus, Erasthenes and mages before them had collected.  
He had told Feynriel to accompany him, while Calpernia kept piecing her ancient artifact together. The group of southern adventurers who had joined Qunari and had killed Titus had broken the thing. It was called "Magrallen", a complicated glass device made by ancient magisters. Dorian was not sure what it was used for, but probably some sort of blood magic. Most ancient magisters had an unhealthy fascination with blood magic, but it was better than being a darkspawn, so he didn't mind.

"Dreaming is all well and good, but if you don't learn anything else, you'll end up becoming unwashed apostate hobo.", he told Feynriel as they sorted out the boxes stacked against the wall. "I know what I'm talking about. I used to know a Dreamer in south. He spent all his time traveling around the world and sleeping in ruins. His clothes smelled like a wet dog."  
"Really?", Feynriel asked, curiously. "I haven't heard about a Dreamer mage outside Tevinter. Was he a Dalish? Keeper Marethari told me that the talent died out two hundred years ago."  
"No, he was an elf from a small village somewhere. The man had huge issues with the Dalish. And of course, he fell hard for a First who embodied everything the Dalish stand for.", Dorian grinned. "Life is often poetic, in awful way."  
"A flat-ear falling in love with First.", Feynriel sighed, shaking his head. "Can't get much worse than that."  
"You speak like a man with an experience.", Dorian noted curiously.  
"Oh, I'm not! I.. I guess you should know, since you are my master. I'm elf-blooded. My mother was a Dalish. She was exiled for having an affair with human, but when my magic manifested, she asked Champion of Kirkwall to help. Hawke arranged a Dalish clan in Sundermount to take me in and teach what they could. Although they didn't like having a shemlen in their midst, I'm grateful for the Keeper's help. She taught me everything she could and sent me here. Without her, it would have been the Circle in Kirkwall. They would have made me Tranquil, I have no doubt of that."  
"Oh.", Dorian considered. "I thought your name sounded odd. But I have no problems with elves. In fact, my best friend used to be an elf."  
"Used to be an elf?"  
"It's a long, sad story I'll tell you one day.", Dorian sighed and reached for a large box stuck behind others. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, and by the looks of it, the box had been there for decades at least. The box had iron hinges, but no visible way to open it. A curious thing. He tried to lift it, but it was surprisingly heavy, and his grip wasn't good. Feynriel had barely time to jump aside when the box fell in the floor and emitted a terrible scream.

Dorian and Feynriel looked at each other, eyes wide.  
"Probably just a clumsy thief alarm.", Dorian said finally. "I will dispel it in no time."  
He flung a strong dispel spell on the box, but as soon as the magical energy touched the box, the spell died. Nothing happened. Dorian had cast numerous dispels in his life, and it was not supposed to go down like this.  
Feynriel walked quietly towards the box, and to Dorian's horror, pressed his ear against it.   
"Someone is breathing inside.", the apprentice said, his voice wary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The box is from DA2 lore. The codex of "screaming box" in Black Emporium is quite damning.


	5. I'll get you a griffon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrion and Abelas bond over a shared game of chess and difficulties of raising a daughter.
> 
> Solas tries to woo his vhenan, but the circumstances are not on his side.
> 
> Abelas gives a shovel talk to Solas.

"Raising children can be dreadful.", Cyrion sighed, thinking of Kallian's suicidal notion of joining Mythal's Blades. The impulse was understandable, but Cyrion could not understand why she willingly searched for danger when they had safety at last. They had their family, freedom, all things one could wish for. He was sitting by the fire in improvised tavern some of the city elves had built after a Dalish girl, Merrill, taught them to make homebrew from juniper berries. His shift as a bartender had ended, and he was having a weekly game of chess with his new friend.  
"I agree.", Abelas said, taking a sip from his tankard. "Daughters are especially hard. I have one living. My sons were much easier to deal with."  
"Oh, don't get me started on daughters. I went through awful lot of trouble to get mine safely married before she could do something stupid like join the Grey Wardens. She was always a wild one, just like her mother.", Cyrion shook his head. "Found her a delightful husband, a very nice boy, but he got killed and she went off the rails. Before I could save another dowry, we were kidnapped and sold to Tevinter."  
"I am sorry to hear that. My daughter is the opposite. She was tricked into bonding a liar who didn't even tell her his real name, left her for months, but came back just when she was starting to get over it."  
"That's harsh."  
"It is."  
"Is he going to stick around this time?", Cyrion asked, moving his hunter on the board.  
"He wants a permanent bond, now.", Abelas said, scowling as his varterral got eaten by Cyrion's First. "And the fool girl is over the moon. She told him that she needs time to think, but I know she's going to say yes eventually."  
"A penniless wastrel, then, moving into your house?", Cyrion asked. No wonder Abelas looked so grim. "But look at the bright side, friend. At least your daughter would be at home where you can keep an eye on her. If he convinced your daughter to move away with him, you wouldn't know where she is. You would spend all your nights wondering if she has a roof to sleep under or enough food on the table."  
"You are right.", Abelas admitted grumpily and fed his wolf to Cyrion's Keeper.

 

"It is a pity all these dreams will be broken. This place has become home for many.", Solas said quietly as they walked across the camp in Fade. "How many people you have here?"  
"First settlers were the forty Dalish clans who attended Arlathvhen last year. I know you dislike worship, but like you said when I was proclaimed Herald, sometimes posturing is necessary. They were ready to do anything for Mythal who had returned to her people. Only two clans left, furious, when I told them to stop blaming the Dread Wolf.", Ellana replied. "I bring in maybe a hundred former slaves in a week. Zevran, Morrigan and Loranil send me people, sometimes whole clans or villages at time. Shianni's last estimate was around five thousand, spread across the forest. I have trusted people in each settlement. Five thousand is less than half compared to population of Val Roeyaux alienage, but for a group trying to live off the forest, it's a lot. We use the remaining Eluvians to gather supplies, but spending another winter here is not possible. Even if we had resources, humans will come sooner or later. They are already scouting on the edges of forest, and although my mages use compulsions to lead them astray, one of them will get through eventually. Then the king will find out, the word spreads, and we're in for another Exalted March for worshiping demon gods."  
"The transition will be easier on them if we wait until they see the threat.", he said thoughtfully.  
"I agree. Although the Dalish, city elves, Fiona's mages and my sentinels have learned to get along, they are not one people, what they must become. They must be ready to accept that only way to survive is a drastic change.", she replied seriously.  
"I heard Cassandra is considering using Inquisition to rebuild Seekers. Not many like it, but there is a precedent with first Inquisition. People talk about Seekers moving their new training grounds to Skyhold. We must move before that. Taking Skyhold from Seekers would be bloody task, killing many of our best mages needlessly.", Solas said.  
"Yes. It has to be done soon, and it would be best if I did it. Return of the Herald of Andraste will throw the soldiers stationed there off their grid so badly that we will face little resistance.", Ellana nodded. "The time for raids is ending anyway after what happened in Tevinter. I cannot risk all of People for few, no matter how hard it feels to ignore their cries. Have you learned anything else?"  
"I found June from Kirkwall. He has been cut off from Fade like the rest of his people. He is unable to speak except for a single word, and people think he is mentally retarded. I left him there. He has been adopted by a good man, who loves him like a son. It's safer place for him, for now.", Solas sighed. "He knew me, however, and I think he understood what I explained to him. I promised to return and collect enchantments he is making to us on the night of next full moon."  
"That is not good news. I had hoped he would be able to retain his spirit, but I guess I was too optimistic.", Ellana said sadly.  
"Also, I've found Elgar'nan's orb.", Solas said grimly. "The place where it is kept is ironically perfect, but taking it back _will_ spark a war with humans. Magisters must have taken it from his temple when Arlathan fell. Elgar'nan's foci is the center of sun on the back of Black Divine's throne."  
 _"Fenedhis._ ", Ellana cursed. "If we storm into Grand Cathedral and break Divine's throne, every alienage in Tevinter will be purged."  
"Precisely.", Solas replied. "And I doubt we can get it without being seen."  
They walked in silence for a while, watching the dreamers touching the Fade briefly and then flickering back. The forest was full of little lights.  
"I will miss Abelas' house.", Ellana said. "It has been first place which has felt like home after I left my clan to spy on Conclave."  
"Did you miss wilderness so much?"  
"To be honest, I think I missed having somebody nagging at me.", Ellana admitted. "I can spend the day ripping sky open and wielding an immense power, and then I get home completely exhausted and Abelas yells at me not knowing my limits while making me eat. And then he scowls at me until I go to sleep."  
"And you find it comforting?", Solas raised his eyebrows, amused.  
"Of course I do. Advisors or companions keep their distance and offer suggestions. Only family dares to ignore power. Like all sentinels, Abelas is too loyal to even dream of questioning Mythal. Every time he nags at me about something or calls me da'len proves that he sees _me_. He wouldn't do it otherwise."  
"I can see the appeal. He reminds me of angry griffon guarding his young.", Solas said, chuckling.  
"You shouldn't be so quick to laugh.", Ellana scolded him gently. "One day, emma lath, you might find out that some scoundrel tricked our daughter believing that children come from color-coded eggs and you'd find her abandoned and alone, crying her heart out."  
"No child of ours would fall to that old dwarven joke.", Solas denied.  
"That is exactly what Abelas thought about 'hairstyle of my youth.'", Ellana pointed out. "He is angry at you, but more angry at himself for not being there to tell me these things. Every parent who gives their child away, wants to believe nothing bad will happen to him, and that he will be happy. Seeing it didn't come to pass is harsh. It feels like personal failure of worst sort.  
"There was a shadow on her face, and Solas knew she was once again thinking of her lost boy.  
"There is happiness to be found, vhenan, even from our failures. Look at us. Or you and Abelas. Even the People, when we succeed.", Solas said, combing escaped strand of hair behind her ear. "You are mine, and I am yours. Nothing can change that."  
Ellana had a faraway look in her eyes, and he could feel her spirit reaching to place which had never been his to travel. She was frozen for a moment, and Solas suddenly noticed how sharp her cheekbones had became.  
"Vhenan?", he asked.  
She blinked, and smiled apologetically.  
"I'm sorry. I think we heard something, but it.. It must have been just an echo in the Fade."  
"What kind of echo?"  
"A old memory of ours, long before your birth.", Ellana said. "I'm sorry, Solas, but I.. We aren't feeling well. I will see you tomorrow."  
She vanished from the Fade, leaving confused Solas alone.

 

In the darkness of her home, Ellana sat up, feeling her control over Mythal's memories breaking strand by strand. She had pushed herself too much, wanting so badly to be what she had been for Solas, and her focus had faltered. She knew something in Mythal's magic was wrong, a vital piece missing, and the fading of the bond made it harder for her to be her instead of Mythal. But Ellana would not, could not answer to his proposal and accept just to keep Mythal at bay. No.  
"Father", she gasped as she sank into blue. "Help."

_She was leisurely walking around Elgar'nan's study in his temple, picking up things. He had never been one for order, and Mythal could not understand how his servants could manage the mess. She sighed and started to organize the papers on his desk. They needed to discuss the latest trade agreement with durgen'len before bringing it to council, and she was sure the paper was here somewhere, buried under everything else._

_"You never give up on that useless fight, do you?", Elgar'nan's voice was warm and amused. He stood by door, leaning against the door frame and looking at her._   
_"I merely pity your poor servants.", she replied. "No wonder Fen'Harel's critique about slavery is gaining support if they are trying to manage this."_   
_She shuffled through the mess, and then suddenly something sharp cut her hand. The cut burnt horribly. It was not a normal wound. It felt alien, dangerous, and it made her shiver. Frightened, she threw the papers on the floor to see what it had been._   
_"What is this? Why do you have this?", she asked, feeling the fear gaining ground in her heart as she saw a dagger made of dark, dim substance. The outlines were fuzzy, like the weapon was crafted from liquid substance which was magically forced to take the shape._   
_"Andruil gave it to me.", Elgar'nan said, coming to her. "I should have put it somewhere else, but I always forget."_   
_"You should not keep it. It's dangerous. Can't you feel it?", she looked at him. "Please, my love."_   
_She looked at her hand, the cut on her fingers, and saw a dark shadow around the parted flesh there. Blood dwelled from the wound, trying to wash the dark thing away, but it burrowed deeper._   
_"What's that?", Elgar'nan asked, grabbing her hand, seeing what she saw. "It's like a parasite, trying to enter your flesh. It will not happen."_

_He held her bloody hand in iron grip, and invoked his magic. Elgar'nan's magic was red and hungry, like always, and she had to fight against compulsion to shield herself. His eyes were narrowed as he burnt through the dark thing in her hand, destroying with every last speck of it. Her blood felt like it was in fire, but he didn't relent, turning it up until she screamed in white hot pain._

_When he finally let go, she collapsed against his chest, and he held her._   
_"Please, my sun. You saw what Andruil's gift did. You must get rid of it. I beg you.", she pleaded. "It is not a safe weapon."_   
_"You are right.", he said, and lifted his palm, still holding her up with other hand. His magic had always been opposite to hers, and the spell was too quick for her to follow. But she knew his song of destruction, and the dagger could not match it. The dark thing broke from the outlines, trying to spread, but his will was stronger. The stench was horrible as the dark thing sizzled in flames of vengeance, and Mythal pressed closer to him for safety. She knew she had to confront Andruil at earliest opportunity, to find out more about the weapon Andruil had found, and destroy it before the black thing ruined them all._

 --

"Wake up, sleepyhead!", Shianni's voice commanded. "A sentinel is here, asking for you. They have a need of Fade expert."  
Solas sat up on his bedroll, rubbing his eyes. Shianni had set him up in a quiet corner of food storage room, because with so many refugees, there was no privacy to be found. Sleeping in the same room with thirty elves caused too many interruptions in his travels in the Fade.  
"Come on! I have tasks for you as well. One of our Eluvians is cracking, and I've understood that you can fix those, can't you?"  
"I have experience with Eluvians, yes.", Solas said, standing up. "But I have to see what sentinels need, first."  
"Of course.", Shianni nodded. "But come back as soon as you are done. At the rate this place is growing, we can't keep using the same hunting grounds if we are going to feed everyone."

 A sentinel was waiting for him in the yard. Solas didn't know her name, but she had Mythal's vallaslin on her forehead and the armor they all wore.  
"Andaran atishan.", the woman greeted him. "My name is Melana. We've been tasked on finding the spirit who calls himself Cole. Our mistress would appreciate your assistance in this."  
"I would be happy to help.", Solas said. "I didn't know Cole was here."  
"He has been a great help.", Melana said. "It would be good to find him soon."  
"Is something wrong?", Solas asked, remembering the abrupt ending to last night's walk in the Fade.  
"It is not my place to comment.", Melana said simply. "Cole was last seen in the heartlands camp with the Dalish mothers. I'd start searching for him there."

 

The heartlands camp was a place Solas had not visited. It was strongly guarded by Dalish hunters, who gave him suspicious looks as they approached, but didn't say anything.  
"They are not welcoming to strangers. The mothers' time draws near, and all hunters are sworn to defend their Keepers and Firsts. It makes them nervous to have the whole future of the Dalish in the same place.", Melana remarked as they entered the camp.  
Solas looked around, noticing the sheer numbers of heavily pregnant women in the camp. It was odd because they all looked much the same, instead of being at different stages of gestation. At first, he didn't understand why, but then he remembered. Arlathvhen, and the begetting of mage children. Of course. He had made an effort to forget that form of slavery.  
"Sentinel. Mage.", an old woman dressed as a Keeper approached them, nodding as a greeting. "Is Mythal coming to us today?"  
"No. She requires the spirit of Compassion which frequents this camp."  
"Ah.", the Keeper sighed. "I think I saw Cole this morning, soothing over Hanolan's fears."  
"I didn't expect Dalish to accept a spirit.", Solas said.  
"We didn't, at first.", the Keeper admitted. "But Mythal taught us about the true nature of elvhen, and although it is a struggle to think of ourselves that way, we are trying. And Cole has been a comfort to many. Mothers love him, for he tells them stories of their unborn children, and how to make them happy. There are so many who are hurting in the other parts of the camp, and although he goes out to help them, he always returns here. He says that the spirits of Hope and Love linger here."  
"What is wrong with Hanolan?", Melana asked from Keeper.  
"The girl is frightened of giving birth. I've told her that Mythal will not let her die, but this is her first, and she is afraid. At sixteen, it is no wonder."  
"You are impregnating children, now?", Solas felt his temper rising.  
"Hanolan is no child. She is a First, an adult, who wears her vallaslin proudly. She knows her duty to her People. I was fifteen when I had my first.", the Keeper said.  
Solas did not agree, but he didn't want to spend time arguing with the Dalish. It was something he would happily leave to Ellana. He closed his eyes instead, and let his magic look for Cole.  
"Cole is there.", he said, pointing towards west.  


The walk to the center of the forest did not take long. Solas was happy to see Cole, and pleased to hear the spirit had decided to follow their cause. They would need every spirit in the days to come.  
"She walks out from the Fade, wearing a form for first time. ", Cole muttered. "It feels odd, and wrong. Body is so limiting thing, but he is beautiful and clever, and she is curious."  
Melana pushed against the wards with her magic, and they waited. The little house in the tree was not visible from this spot, and the wards were crackling with magical energy.  
"He remembers looking at hundred faces, wondering if this one was her. He holds the parchment where the names have been written on with a careful hand, and prays to Mythal that the boy will be kind to her. And to Elgar'nan, in case he is not.", Cole talked to himself.

After a moment, they saw the tall form of Abelas approaching. The sentinel looked stern as always as he dispelled the wards for them to step through, and raised them up immediately after.  
"You are hurting.", Cole said, looking at the sentinel.  
Abelas didn't admit or deny, but nodded towards the house.  
"She needs you."  
Cole vanished from sight, and Melana followed him. Solas took a step forwards, only to be stopped by Abelas stepping deliberately on his way.

"Your help with locating Cole is appreciated, but there is no further need of your assistance.", sentinel informed him.  
There was no fault to be found in words, or lack of respect in his behavior, but Solas doubted Abelas' motives.  
"Abelas.", Solas said politely. "What is wrong? Why Cole is here?"  
Abelas didn't reply.  
"Is she all right?", Solas asked.  
"No.", Abelas answered. "She is having a.. bad day. It would best if you left, now."  
"I disagree. If something is wrong, I should know. Our plans are too important to be endangered by lack of knowledge. I would be happy to lend my assistance to solve any problem she might have."  
"Truly?", Abelas asked, his voice sharp. " _Mythal_ is all right, and thanks you for your kind offer. If you are referring to my daughter, I'm not convinced that your presence would do her any good."  
Solas' eyes narrowed as he considered the man in front of him.  
"If you wish to invoke the difference between my vhenan and the divinity she carries, your rights to keep me away are in question. I might not have any reason to disturb Mythal's rest, but I will not be kept away from Ellana's side if she is hurting. You have already made exceedingly clear that you do not like me. Why?"  
"To put it mildly, Fen'Harel, you have a terrible reputation.", Abelas stated. "I am not talking about 'Great Betrayal', but how you behaved in your youth. And your behavior so far has not impressed me. First you tricked my daughter to wearing your crown. It took almost two months for you to actually ask her, and even then you didn't tell your true name. As far as I know, you have _never_ told her your true name, being complacent with the fact that she figured it out herself."  
Solas opened his mouth to disagree, but closed it as soon as he realized that in fact, Abelas was right. He had never told her.  
" You have spent most of the year and day apart from her, and when you finally appear, you still cling to your false name. You speak what you want, but offer her nothing. I have every reason to doubt your commitment to her."  
"I have no wish to cause her problems with the Dalish.", Solas said sharply.  
"If you don't have courage to stand openly at her side _now_ , when only thing to weather are beliefs of the Dalish, what will you do when Elgar'nan is released to burn the Blight? He is the Father, and she is the Mother. It cannot be denied.", Abelas continued mercilessly. "Will you just put your tail between your legs and slip in the Fade, abandoning her again? Will you leave her children fatherless, and make her feel ashamed about something which has nothing to do with her feelings and everything with magic."  
"No!", Solas felt his temper rising. "Don't dare to suggest I would do something to like that! I love her, and I will never again abandon her."  
"Prove it.", Abelas said, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you want my daughter's bond, I want a public acknowledgement. My daughter is not some paramour of yours to be hidden in the Fade. Our family has always been members of the priest class, not slaves, and treating her like a slave will win you no favors from her People."  
"You mean the whole circus with a hundred different flowers and summoning spirits?", Solas asked.  
"Yes.", Abelas replied, looking positively evil. "A bond done _properly_."  
"I can't obtain a griffon. They are extinct.", Solas said.  
"Actually, they are not. Warden Mahariel has spent some time in Weisshaupt Fortress, and apparently the Wardens found a cache of griffon eggs from fourth Blight, purified from the taint. She says that when she left Weisshaupt, they were starting to breed the second generation of griffons.", Abelas said coolly. The look in his face was solemn as always, but Solas could feel the smugness in the air.  
"All right.", he snapped. "I'll get you a griffon. But I _will_ see if I can help her, first."  
"A good choice. I wish you happy hunting.", Abelas said and turned towards his house, gesturing Solas to follow.


	6. The little magister who could

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's parents should not have allowed his nurse to read "The little magister who could" so many times to baby Dorian.

"Dear Blackwall.", Dorian dictated. "We were never closest of friends, but I have heard that you survived your Joining, and there is a matter concerning your Order we must speak about. I have found out the origin of the Blight, but the matter is delicate, and cannot be put in writing. Please come and meet me in Ath Velanis. Not yours, Dorian Pavus. And my usual titles."  
"Is that all, master?", Calpernia asked, finishing the letter. She sprinkled fine sand over the parchment to dry the ink.  
"Yes. Give it to messenger and tell him to leave to Weisshaupt straight away. I'm getting bored in here.", Dorian sniffed. It was true. He was bored. He had finished writing corrections to Inquisitor's Tale and the haughty letter addressed to Varric was almost done. It needed just his personal seal, but Dorian had forgotten it to Quarinus and it would take almost a week to arrive. Demanding corrections to second edition was serious business, and signet ring was definitely required.  
"I have finished repairing the Magrallen.", Calpernia offered.  
"Blood magic and world domination are so dreadfully common pursuits, my dear.", Dorian sighed. "They are not exciting."  
Feynriel was reading a book in the corner.  
"I've been thinking of the mystery box we found, master. I read a book of old elvish glyphs and cross-referenced it with master Titus' notes. I think that the box is locked in the Fade, not in real world, and that is why the binding is not visible here. If we walked the Fade and studied the box there, we could learn more about it's true nature."  
"A splendid idea!", Dorian praised. "Seheron has horrible weather, and the Qunari and rebellious slaves make evening strolls impossible anyway. Let's test your theory straight away!"

 

Had Dorian grown up in the south, he would have undoubtedly heard many educational nursery tales about not messing with old, potentially dangerous magic. But his nursery tales had been more in the line with little magister who could, so entering the Fade with Feynriel to check the odd box was a good idea. Besides, Dorian had always been curious about Dreaming, and Feynriel saying that the box could be breakable in the Fade was an interesting possibility. He was more than eager to tag along. Solas had never agreed to show him how it was done, being too busy slipping away to sleep in odd places with the Inquisitor. Just to be safe, he had ordered Calpernia to keep an eye on the box in real world, and act accordingly if something went wrong.

"Can you hear it?", Feynriel asked as he entered Dorian's dream in the Fade. "The sound is barely audible in the real world, but here it's stronger. Like someone was whispering, sobbing sometimes, in different language."  
"I'm sorry, but I don't hear a thing.", Dorian admitted grumpily.  
"I can't hear much of it either.", Feynriel replied. "It's odd sensation. If I try to listen very hard, I almost catch a word or two, but it's like.. It's like trying to do a puzzle and putting a piece which nearly fits, but not quite, and the picture shows it's clearly wrong piece."  
"The ancient Tevinter put much pride in bloodlines. It might be connected to that.", Dorian offered.  
"It might be, yes.", Feynriel nodded. "I don't know much about blood magic. We should have brought Calpernia along for that."  
"I am proficient. It's not good publicity, but everyone does it.", Dorian shrugged.

The box waited in the storage room. It was different in a Fade. The surface was engraved with old symbols and runes.  
"These look elven.", Dorian said, crouching to get a better look. "Very old, and fading."  
"I can't make any sense of them.", Feynriel shook his head.  
"We could always ask Mythal to translate for us. She owes me one.", Dorian replied.  
"Mythal owes you one?", Feynriel's eyes widened.  
"I haven't told you, have I? My best friend was revealed to be an ancient elvhen goddess, Mythal, reborn. I'm quite unhappy about it. Friends should tell things like that, instead of walking away and leaving others feel betrayed and used.", Dorian said bitterly.  
"Mythal reborn?", Feynriel had turned pale as a sheet.  
"I hope the shock wears off. It would be dreadfully embarrassing if you continue to repeat my every word.", Dorian said. "But it is true, and--"  
He never had the chance to finish his sentence. A violent blast of magic, a savage and frightening force, slammed both of them against the box. The runes ignited, and Feynriel screamed like a dying halla as his blood was called forth and it ran like red river, wetting the box. The dream shattered, pushing him out from the Fade, and Dorian could hear Calpernia screaming so loudly that his eardrums almost shattered. Feynriel fell limply over the box, eyes already glazing, and Dorian saw Calpernia dead on the floor in a pool of blood.

A male voice said something in language Dorian didn't know, and then he felt himself crouching over in horrible pain. He tried to shield himself the best he could, but his barriers broke as easily as they had first time he had tried the spell under guidance of his father. Nothing Dorian had experienced in the battles of Inquisition could compare to pain he felt his blood was pulled out from his body. Dorian was sure he was going to die.

The box shattered in a burst of magic, and Dorian fell on his knees from impact, not believing his own eyes. It was a man. An elven man, dressed in extravagant robes of flaming orange. He had long hair of palest gold and dark eyebrows. He was as tall as any human, and he stretched himself like a cat, muttering something which did not sound friendly. When he turned his attention to Dorian, his eyes were inhuman and frightening, wholly black with red cracks of magic.  
"Where is my Mythal, slave?", he asked in common tongue.  
Dorian was sobbing, his veins aching with violation. Blood magic felt so much better when he was the one casting it, not one feeding the spell.  
"Her name is Ellana Lavellan.", he said, the words stumbling after one another. "She is a Dalish elf, and she used to be my best friend."  
"Mythal was murdered.", the man said mercilessly, advancing on Dorian.  
"I saw her wielding a blue orb, and naming herself Mythal.", Dorian clawed desperately at remains of his mana, but found none. The shouting must have alerted the soldiers; if only he could have a moment or two more, help would arrive. Dorian might still survive this. He stared at his death in elf's eyes, and added quickly:  
"She comes when the elves pray for her help. I last saw her only a week ago in Quarinus. She has eyes like yours, black and misty, but they crack with blue."  
"You will take me to her.", the elf said, and the door burst open. The soldiers of the House Pavus stormed in. The elf looked slightly annoyed when the first arrow flew towards him, and Dorian could feel stranger's magic waking up again. He felt another painful pull, and as he lost his consciousness, he heard multiple screams cut short.

 

 

The waking up was the second most unpleasant in Dorian's life. He was laying on the cold stone floor by his own bed, while the elf lounged on the bed and read the Inquisitor's Tale. Dorian's whole body ached, his robes were _ruined_ and his skin was incredibly sore.  
"Your people are as weak as when you sold trinkets and arrowheads fashioned from bone in the muddy market square of your shemlen settlement.", the elf remarked casually. "No endurance whatsoever. Even Elvhenan slave children didn't cringe so much when they were given vallaslin."  
Vallasin? The horribly unstylish tattoo the Dalish sported on their faces. Dorian was horrified.  
"If you have ruined my good looks, I--", Dorian started.  
"You will do what?", the elf arched an eyebrow. "It is best if you understand your position early on. Let me assure you; I have perfected this particular binding thanks to Fen'Harel and his slave rebellion. Stand up, Alas."  
Dorian had no intention to obeying his order, and he laid stubbornly on the floor. The elf snapped his fingers, sending a fine thread of magic towards him, and to his terror, Dorian felt his muscles moving against his will. As he stood up in his torn robes, he could see a glimpse of red wavy line marking his skin over his heart.  
"You have the honor of serving me and wearing my mark.", the elf said simply. "I have a need of a knowledgeable slave, and since you brought me the news of my Mythal, I granted you this boon."  
Dorian pulled down his torn robe, staring at the large symbol carved on his chest. It was as red as blood and looked like vallaslin, with light side and dark side.  
"Seeing your face marked with my symbols would have embarrassed me, since you are a barbarian.", the elf continued. "Besides, the very idea of touching the fur on your lip was disgusting. Draw a bath for me. And if you have attendants, I require their services."  
"My name is Dorian Pavus, an Altus of Tevinter, and I am not your servant or your slave!", Dorian shouted in anger.  
The elf sighed, opening his hand and making a fist. Some unseen force took a hold of Dorian's heart, and _crushed_. Tears ran over Dorian's face as he screamed in unseen agony. He cried for Maker, praying it to stop, and just when he was sure he was going to die, the pain ended abruptly.  
"You will do as I say.", the elf stated. "I have more important things to do than disciplining unruly slave. For example, I wish to know why everyone in this book is so taken up with this Andraste. I don't remember anyone important by that name."  
"Oh.", Dorian said weakly, wiping the tears from his face.  
"And why everyone sneers at the main character being one of the People? There are already too many shemlen characters in this book, and even one abomination with horns which is described to look like a love child of durgen'len and a dragon. Smutty literature has gotten very odd while I slept. Besides, I find it hard to believe that any shemlen would have the ill-founded courage to imprison an elf and put her in chains? Why the People would allow something like that happen?"  
The elf took a odd-looking quill from the pocket of his robe and started writing notes on the margins. Dorian had never seen a quill like it; it was shaped like a thick needle made of metal. His handwriting was flowery and Dorian could not make out a single word.  
"This book needs to be rewritten. It is not amusing, even if it features Fen'Harel. The "Dread Wolf Take Me"-series were much better."  
"Fen'Harel?", Dorian repeated, feeling unwell.  
"I'm starting to wonder if you are slow.", the elf shook his head, annoyed. "The orb of Destruction, like the author calls it, is Fen'Harel's foci. I think he is supposed to be Solas. Calling himself Pride would be fitting, but everyone knows Fen'Harel is cocky and hotheaded. This Solas is plainly boring, and I can't understand why the heroine would fall for him. Fade this, Fade that, blaa, blaa, blaa."  
"I would like to know your name.", Dorian said, feeling dread.  
"My name? You truly don't know? You have the honor of serving Elgar'nan, Eldest of the Sun.", the elf said, leafing through the book and writing notes.  
"I think.. I'm going to arrange that bath, now.", Dorian said, scrambled up and fled the room.


	7. What was lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana dreams, and remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated to keep the chapters in reasonable length: I added the scene with Solas finally admitting who he is.
> 
> That's because in next chapter, Elgar'nan visits Tevinter spa to gather his strength before stealing back his foci.

Solas sat down, leaning his back against the wall and pulled Ellana against his chest. She twitched in her trance, but didn't wake up. Her face was pale and drawn, and he could feel her hip bones poking against his side. Solas remembered trailing down her body with kisses in Emerald Graves, sunshine and the vibrant green of trees. She had been strong and lean, like one would expect from a woman who had lived her whole life in wilderness. Now she was little more than skin and bones.  
"Shh, vhenan.", Solas whispered. "Rest."  
"You help.", Cole said, crouching next to them. "She sees the green light and pulls herself up from the abyss. There is too much blue for her to hold inside, and it consumes her."  
"It must be the orb.", Abelas said. He had bags under his eyes, and he looked tired. "This never happened to Mythal when she was in Flemeth's body."  
"How long this has been going on?", Solas asked, holding Ellana.  
"When Mythal took her, she was incoherent for a long time. The possession went wrong and we weren't sure who would emerge on top. But I think it's been getting worse with time. The fading of your bond affects her clearly.", Abelas said reluctantly.  
"She clings to green hurt in the midst of all blue.", Cole added. "She hurt, but Mythal was hurting too. She missed Elgar'nan's laugh and easy smiles, and you went away too, making them both cry. And they mourned their lost sons. It was a deep hurt, and it made Mythal angry. She didn't want to help the People, she wanted to kill the dark thing."  
Solas nodded quietly, his lips a thin line.  
"I had to help, to make her less angry. I soothed the pain, and they held each other, so they would not be so alone. They are one, now.", Cole said. "Did I do the right thing, Solas?"  
"I think you did.", Solas replied.

 

_She smiled as she touched the soft skin of her baby. It was unlike anything she had felt before. The little sharp ears were adorable, and Mythal bent down to kiss the tip of his ear._   
_"Sometimes, my sun, you have wonderful ideas.", she said to Elgar'nan._   
_"I know.", Elgar'nan replied, holding the second baby in the crook of his arm as he pulled Mythal closer. "I have to admit that I have a certain fondness of making more people this way. It's a great pleasure in the beginning, and the end results are divine."_   
_"I agree, although the middle part could have been nicer.", Mythal said, leaning against him._   
_"It was rather messy, I admit, but I think the process might get refined with time and practice.", Elgar'nan replied. "You could ask a Spirit of Compassion to wipe it away from your memories."_   
_"No.", Mythal shook her head, feeling content. "The greatest souls are often forged on the altar of pain. I think we should keep this the way it is."_   
_"As you wish.", Elgar'nan decided._   
_They existed in companionable silence for a while._   
_"I have been thinking, my love.", Elgar'nan began. "When I was young, I enjoyed the gifts my mother gave me. They brought me great joy, and I would like to give something alike to our children."_   
_"You have thought of something special?", Mythal asked, beaming at him. Oh, how she loved him. She had loved Elgar'nan from the moment she saw him, but seeing him so gentle and warm with the children they had created together made her very soul ache with intensity of feeling._   
_"The world is a wonderful place, but none of the creations of my mother or the spirits who have followed us to live here can change anything, like you and I can. They miss the Fade. I think earth would make a wonderful playground to our children and their companions, if they could manipulate the fabric of creation.", Elgar'nan said thoughtfully._   
_"It would make a great gift to little ones.", Mythal replied. "A blessing of magic for the People."_   
_"Yes.", Elgar'nan nodded, took the babies and put them carefully under the shade of a tree. He was still not in best terms with his father, remembering the great burning all too vividly to let sun shine on his greatest treasures. Satisfied with the arrangement, he turned to Mythal, and kissed her fully on the mouth. She slid her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him back, her magic rising like a song in the air. He met her with his own, and their magic sang harmoniously together, creating something unseen and new. The babies under the tree looked wide-eyed as the first purple sparkles fell on them._

 

Ellana woke up with a gasp, staring at the ceiling. There was a terrible longing in her heart, for a time long gone, and she wanted to weep for the loss of it. For their world which had been so full of possibilities, untouched, with nothing gone wrong yet. She could remember vividly the sense of wonderment, hope, and the sheer happiness of unity. How something with a beginning so filled with love could have come to such a bitter end? She would have cried, but her sorrow cut too deep to be consoled by mere tears. Her world was lost, and she didn't want to live in this one. Mythal suledin. Mythal endures.

Moon shone dimly through the open windows, and someone was holding her closely. Solas, awake and quietly observing. Wanting for comfort, she reached for him wordlessly, opening her senses to hear the song. She wreathed herself in her magic, and felt him startling as she took his face between her hands and kissed him.  
Her song was a lament of loss, yearning for what had been. It was a sentiment he knew well. He took her hands, pressing his forehead against hers, and let his magic loose. A wish crystallized in the joining of blue and green, whispering in the ears of the People:  
 _"Come back. Come home."_

 

_\--_

 

"Good morning.", Ellana smiled at him, her long hair falling on his bare chest. Solas returned the smile, feeling mellow. He could not remember when he had felt this happy. Maybe before the rebellion and Mythal's murder. He had missed sharing magic, guiding their voices together until the song became perfect harmony. It was something which had connected so-called elvhen pantheon, kept them apart from others. Vivienne had said that mages needed other mages, because only they understood what it was like, and although Solas disagreed with First Enchanter's opinions on most matters, this one she had gotten right. They had spent the night working magic, a summoning for the People, and the morning had passed leisurely, making love on the fade-touched furs which served as her bed. It was the elven way; the spirit came before the body.  
Solas considered the beautiful curve of her neck, which surely would earn a light bite. He was learning her tells; she would draw a sharp breath, and tension would give way to soft surrender. Then-- Fenedhis. He could feel someone pushing against the wards around the house. Abelas. It was almost midday already.  
"Your father wishes to come home.", he said reluctantly.  
"I wonder where he slept.", Ellana said lightly. "He is probably very cranky by now. Abelas is a slave to his routines; he does not like camping outside. I would have been happy living in a tent or aravel, but he insisted building a house."  
"You are hopelessly Dalish, vhenan.", Solas said, pulling her down. His theory should be tested.  
"I'm not hopeless.", Ellana disagreed. "Today I'm full of hope. We can't go back to what was, but I have decided to believe that there are other places, other fates to be found."  
Solas found the weak spot on her neck and bit down. He had been right; she tensed for a second, then melted in his arms.  
"I had a a discussion with your father.", he said, lazily running his hands along her back. "He argues like an Orlesian judge."  
"You are speaking about a priest devoted to goddess of justice.", Ellana reminded. "You should know better than try to argue with Abelas. His reasoning is frightfully good. I suspect that's how he orders people around."  
"Yes.", Solas sighed. "I think I have to make amends for my previous mistakes."  
He rolled them over, laying on the top of her.  
"I am Fen'Harel.", he said seriously.  
"I figured that out some time ago.", Ellana said, amused.  
"Your father felt rather strongly about the fact I never told you.", Fen'Harel said. "And he has horrible ideas about bonding. He wants a public ceremony."  
"Like Dalish do?", Ellana asked hopefully. "It is very simple ritual."  
"No. He wants me to steal a griffon, collect hundred different flowers, summon spirits and tell everyone my true name.", Fen'Harel replied.Ellana looked confused.  
"But why?"  
"That is how the priest class arranged their bonds in Elvhenan."  
"It sounds awful lot of trouble."  
"It is, but like you said, he is very good at finding arguments to support his opinion.", Fen'Harel said seriously. "I know you wanted time to think, but stealing a griffon is time-consuming work, and I would prefer to know if I have to attempt a feat like that."  
"Are you proposing, then?", Ellana asked, the corners of her lips curving in a smile.  
"Yes.", Fen'Harel said, feeling slightly nervous.  
"You have seen me at my worst, and if it was not enough to drive us apart, I don't think there is anything which could accomplish that. Your spirit is precious to me, and there is nobody I would rather have on my side.", she said softly, reaching to touch his face. "I love you, Fen'Harel. I will hold your bond gladly."

 

 


	8. I will never go somewhere nice with you again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elgar'nan and Dorian go to spa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the last chapter and added the bit where Solas finally tells his real name, because it was not long enough to be a chapter on it's own right. So if you read the original version without that scene, check it out.

Dorian had been woken up by the elven servants' anxiety. They were talking fervently about some dream they had. The same dream, apparently.  
"It was sent by the Creators.", an old, wrinkled woman said. Ilana had been a washerwoman in the Pavus household as long as Dorian remembered. She never ruined expensive fabrics and had unending patience with Dorian's requests. After Dorian had been ordered to move in the slave quarters, he had quickly learned a different side of Ilana; a bitter, sharp-tongued woman who never had forgiven his father for enjoying the favors of her daughter. They called it rape, in the slave quarters, saying that there was no such thing as a choice for a slave, since resisting would endanger everyone. Dorian had not thought it that way. He felt horrible while he tried to count how many slaves he had taken to bed, and wondered if every gesture of pleasure had been fueled by grim determination instead of attraction.  
"What do you know about Creators?", Dorian's former serving man, Selassan, asked.  
"I know a great deal. I had a lover once, a Dalish man, who had been taken during a hunt. Before he was killed for disobedience, he told me about our true gods, who have been locked away by Fen'Harel."  
"But I saw Fen'Harel in my sleep.", a small girl said, shivering. "He was a wolf with too many eyes. He told me that I should fight for my freedom and come home to Mythal."  
"In Quarinus, there were rumors about Ahriman's slaves disappearing.", Selassan said. "He was there when it happened."  
The man nodded towards Dorian, but didn't look at him. Dorian felt uncomfortable, being only human in the room. They didn't have weapons, but a mob descending on one man could overcome his magic. He would not be first mage beaten to death.  
"It is true.", he said quickly. "I saw an elven woman stepping out from the rift in a sky. She called herself Mythal, and she had a great wolf on her side. They killed Ahriman and his soldiers. The slaves decided to join her."  
The elves were silent, looking at him. It made him nervous.  
"It would be best if you went to see the master.", Ilana said finally. "He is standing on the battlements. He might have need of you."  
"Yes.", Dorian said, feeling their eyes on him. "It would be best. I'll go. Now."

It was incredibly ironic that he was fleeing to safety to one who had branded him, cast him down to slave quarters and refused to use or even listen his true name. But he could not stay with the elves, and he had nowhere else to go. So he climbed up the stairs, feeling the unpleasant humidity on his skin. Normally he would have cast a refreshing wind to make himself more comfortable, but there was a side effect to tattoo on his skin; Dorian could not use magic unless he was expressly told to do so by Elgar'nan. Dorian had tried to console himself by telling that at least it was better than Tranquility because he still had his emotions intact, but he had cried himself to sleep on first night.

 

Elgar'nan was standing on the battlements, wearing a new overcoat made from silver brocade and a crown fashioned from twigs and leaves. It should have looked ridiculous, but Elgar'nan pulled it off somehow, the end result being exotically beautiful. Dorian's tastes ran to big and burly, and he was terrified of Elgar'nan, but he could not deny that seeing the elf made his knees a little weak. Fear probably helped.  
"I thought you would be sleeping.", Dorian blurted.  
"I have been shut in a box for three thousand years with little else to do than sleep.", Elgar'nan said dryly. "I'm certainly not going to spend more time doing that when there are more interesting pursuits to be had."  
"What kind of pursuits?", Dorian asked weakly. He didn't like the sound of it.  
"I heard her voice in the Fade.", Elgar'nan said, his eyes bright and fevered. "I will regain my orb, and go to her. This tainted world will burn, and we will start building anew, and things will go back the way they were."  
"The slaves are planning to join Mythal.", Dorian said quickly, hoping to distract Elgar'nan. He didn't like this talk about burning.  
"Of course they are.", Elgar'nan said, sounding annoyed. "The People have been called. They go. Are you truly so thick that you don't understand even the simplest things? I don't recall Mythal ever suffering fools gladly."  
"But.. They will die. The magisters are merciless to escaped slaves."  
"There is no room for pity in a war.", Elgar'nan replied. "Those who fall against humans would only hinder us when we march against our true enemy. Earth is still wet with the blood of the People, crying vengeance for their deaths, and Mythal's blood calls for me loudest of them all."  
Dorian's blood was chilled and he searched for distraction. Any distraction, really. He had developed a sudden interest in elven legends lately and they all spoke of Elgar'nan having a terrible temper which could not be reined in by anyone except Mythal. Mythal's murder was one topic Dorian did not want to discuss. Her relationship with Solas was close second.  
"Have you finished the Inquisitor's Tale?", he asked desperately. "I could send it to author, with corrections. There is another series by Tethras you might like more. It's called Swords and Shields."  
Elgar'nan seemed to consider it, but was distracted by a pair of elves appearing from the jungle.  
"Ah.", he said, sounding satisfied. "Finally."  
"Who are they?"  
"Sentinels from my temple. As soon as I woke up, I told them to scry for my foci. They must have news."

 

The sentinels were odd folk, who spoke only ancient elvish. They had figured out that Elgar'nan's foci was somewhere in Minrathous, so Dorian was ordered to take them there. Travelling across the country with Elgar'nan and two sullen priests was not his idea of fun, but the life of a slave did not include much joy anyway.

\--

"This is your capital?", Elgar'nan asked, not impressed. "The buildings look like cheap rip-offs. The poor people used to live in houses like that."  
"The house you are pointing at belongs to Grand Enchanter of Minrathous Circle.", Dorian said, trying not to grind his teeth. It was starting to become a habit, and it made his jaws hurt. "It is a rarity even in Tevinter, a shining example of architecture from early imperium."  
"It is crude and ugly. Three thousand years, and you still haven't figured out how to lift your buildings off the mud?", Elgar'nan raised his eyebrows.  
"If you think we are barbarians living in mud, why you insist visiting a Tevinter spa?", Dorian asked, wishing fervently that his master would change his mind before someone familiar would see them. His face felt naked without the mustache. Elgar'nan had disliked it.  
"I like spas.", Elgar'nan announced. "And I need to pass time somehow while my priests scry for the foci."

 

Dorian felt mortified as he approached the main entrance of the most exclusive spa in Minrathous, accompanied by elf who wore a crown made of leaves and twigs. He hoped that Elgar'nan didn't understand Tevene, because everyone would think he was Dorian's paramour. Especially after they saw that horrible tattoo.

The bath attendant was a female elf. Elgar'nan strode straight to the counter, and started speaking in elvish. The woman stared at him, her eyes widening, with the oddest look on her face.  
"I'm sorry, messere, but I do not understand.", she said meekly.  
"What? You are one of the People! How you can't speak your own language?", Elgar'nan switched to common tongue, which he insisted calling durgen'len trade language.  
"We..", the woman looked nervous. "Only the Dalish can speak old language, I think. But I have never seen one. They are said to be dangerous barbarians skulking in the woods, who kill everyone in sight."  
"Woods? Alas, what is this about?", Elgar'nan turned to Dorian. "I thought Mythal was waiting for me in Arlathan!"  
Dorian swallowed.  
"Arlathan is gone.", he said slowly, praying in his mind for the Maker to look upon his poor servant and protect him from the wrath of Elgar'nan. "It fell to fighting between elves, and the Tevinter Magisters ransacked the rest. The elves were enslaved. They tried to rebuild their kingdom, called Dales, but it lasted merely three centuries before humans marched on them for worshipping pagan gods. The Dales fell seven hundred years ago, and the elves have either been living in slums of human cities or as homeless vagabonds ever since."  
Elgar'nan's hands gripped the edge of marble counter, and Dorian could see his eyes darkening to black.  
"Is this true, child?", he asked from the woman.  
"I think it is. I don't know much of history, but the part about alienages is right. He forgot about slaves. Most of elves in Tevinter are slaves. We're bred or kidnapped from other countries to serve humans.", the woman said, giving dirty look at Dorian. Like he was personally responsible for centuries of oppression! It was just like talking with Solas, all over again!  
"Don't look at me!", Dorian snapped. "I'm a slave as well!"  
"But why don't you fight back? You have magic at your disposal, and immortality!", Elgar'nan said, sounding very upset.  
"No.", the woman said, shaking her head and looking surprised. "We are like everyone else, with only a few mages in each generation, and immortality is just a story. Where have you been, if you don't know these things, messere? Are you a pet of lord Pavus?"  
"A pet?", Elgar'nan turned to Dorian, his voice rising to roar. "Me? Fucking a furry barbarian living in a mud? Is that what the People have been lapsed into?"  
"I'm sorry, messere, I didn't mean to insult.", the woman apologized, retreating backwards until her back hit the wall. "I just thought... Your clothes are so fine and yet you are an elf."  
Elgar'nan's eyes were fully black now, the color disappeared completely.  
"There is a spark of vengeance burning in your heart, child.", he said, his voice almost gentle. "You have tried to smother it, but the time for enduring is over. Before night falls, you will have the blood on your hands, and it will bring you great pleasure. Follow me, and I will give you vengeance, satisfying and sweet. For I am Elgar'nan, Eldest of the Sun, and you will be my instrument."  
The woman stared at him, frozen in place. Elgar'nan smiled, and it was not a kind smile.  
"Alas, wait for me here.", he said, not bothering to look at Dorian, and lunged forwards. His form transformed in middle of the movement, and Dorian saw a _thing_ made of red mist brushing against the elven woman, who gasped and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, there was a look of rage twisting her pretty face. She turned to cupboard where the customer's weapons and other valuables were kept, and took out a pair of daggers. After a brief consideration, she pulled out a bag belonging to some lady, and threw all weapons inside. The mist swirled around her as she lifted the bag on her shoulder.  
"There are others who would take your gift gladly, my lord.", she said, her refined accent turning into lower class dialect which sounded remotely Orlesian. "This way."

Dorian was left standing alone in the reception area as the woman marched to door leading to waiting area meant for slaves and servants whose patrons were enjoying the spa treatments. She vanished inside, the red mist trailing after her.  
"Oh, please, Maker, no.", Dorian wailed, but nobody answered. When he had spoken about reforming Tevinter, he had never meant this. Dorian knew that he should leave the premises, alert someone, but when he tried to walk towards the entrance, his feet refused to move.  
"Fasta vass!", Dorian cursed, feeling helpless. Stupid binding. He was stuck in the stupid spa until Elgar'nan came back.  
Since there was nothing else to do, Dorian took the corridor leading to wine bar. Drinking himself senseless had always been viable option to survive bad things in his life. It was the one freedom he still had left.

 

 

Hours later Dorian heard noise from the direction of the reception room.  
"Put the barbarian here.", Elgar'nan commanded someone. "Alas!"  
Not wanting to see what he had brought, Dorian hurried to answer his summons nonetheless. The sight which welcomed him was not what he had expected.  
Elgar'nan stood there with his sentinels and Morrigan, who had a gaping hole in her chest.

"Morrigan!", Dorian shouted, running to witch. "What happened to you?"  
"She said she drank from the Well of Sorrows, and you can testify her story. Is this true, Alas?", Elgar'nan asked sharply.  
"Yes!", Dorian said, kneeling at Morrigan, whose breaths grew weaker each moment. "Give my magic back! I can help her!"  
"She is beyond help.", the sentinel said. "A lyrium warrior ripped her heart out when we were taking back the orb. Only the magic of the Well has kept her alive this long."  
"Please.", Morrigan tried to speak. "Kieran...Weisshaupt."  
"He is in Weisshaupt?"  
"Not a place for a boy.", Morrigan said weakly. "Take him. Away from all this."  
"I promise.", Dorian said, taking the hand of dying woman. "I swear it on my house."  
"I..", Morrigan started, but in the middle of the sentence, her eyes glazed over, and Dorian felt his magic returning to him.  
"You waited until she died, on purpose!", he shouted at Elgar'nan. "I could have helped her!"  
"I have learned much about shemlen tonight, and none of it makes right for a barbarian to be the vessel of the Well of Sorrows.", Elgar'nan said sternly. "Mythal does not need a shemlen priest. You claimed to be necromancer. Summon her spirit for questioning."  
Dorian started working the spell, his heart reeling against the injustice of it.  
"Mythal does not agree with your views on humans! She called Morrigan her sister! I was her best friend! I pray for the Maker that Mythal will trash you for doing this to us!"  
Elgar'nan laughed. It was a pleasant, light sound, which made Dorian feel worse. A villain should have threatening laugh.  
"I never thought to see an Age where a shemlen tries to invoke the justice of Mythal against me.", Elgar'nan said, shaking his head. "If it is any comfort to you, the lyrium warrior will repent the day he dared to strike against me. Wearing my vallaslin in his flesh while defending your Chantry - it was the last mistake he made. Good riddance."  
Dorian had finished the incantation, and his mana imprisoned Morrigan's shade before it could flee to the Fade for the last time.  
"Ask your questions. This will not hold for long.", he said between gritted teeth.  
"Where is Mythal?", Elgar'nan addressed the shade.  
"Mythal is gathering the People in Brecilian Forest.", the shade answered.  
"Is she expecting me?"  
"I did not have time to relay the knowledge to Mythal before I was slain. Fen'Harel had found your orb, and I was sent to keep watch on it, preferably find a way to take it in secret. They wished to avoid open war. We knew nothing about your return before I saw you on the street. The Well recognized you, and urged me to tell you the location of your foci."  
Dorian could not hold the ghost any longer. The call of death was too strong, and the spectre of Morrigan was pulled from his fingers to walk the winding path to Beyond. Dorian would have prayed for her soul, but he didn't know which god the witch had followed, if any.  
"Well. This was good day's work.", Elgar'nan said. "We got the orb back, and now we know where to go. Alas, how do we get to Brecilian Forest?"  
"You need a ship. My mother owns a shipping company, if the elves haven't burnt it down. It's on the east side of the harbor.", Dorian said, taking his signet ring from his finger and handing it to sentinel. He wanted this to end. Sooner they reached Mythal, sooner he would get rid of Elgar'nan, and if there was any traces left of his best friend, he would have justice. He had to. "Take this to house with sign of green staff, and tell lord Pavus wishes a ship prepared for him instantly. They will do as you say. In the meanwhile, I will have a bath."

 

 

There were few bath attendants still working, although all of them were human. Tevinter prided itself for functioning despite the minor inconveniences like a slave rebellion raging on the streets. Dorian felt unreal as they were escorted to changing rooms. He could not understand Elgar'nan. It was like seeing a _worse_ version of himself. The man had caused countless people to die by freeing their rage and thirst for vengeance, and now he was acting like nothing had happened. Elgar'nan's attention was on the square piece of fabric with two strings the bath attendant was offering him.  
"What is the meaning of this?", he asked.  
"You wear it to bathing area.", Dorian sighed. He had already disrobed, so he took the cloth and tied the strings around his waist. He could feel the bath attendant staring at his tattoo.  
"Why?", Elgar'nan didn't get it.  
"A nobleman should not appear nude in public. It's a symbolic piece of clothing, to preserve modesty."  
"I can see why a shemlen would be ashamed for his body - considering how impossible it is to clean a bush like yours - but this looks ridiculous. It's entirely too small.", Elgar'nan said, turning the piece of cloth in his hands.  
Dorian felt the heat rising on his face. This was the discussion he had often when visiting a spa of less respectable reputation, but he had a nagging suspicion that Elgar'nan actually meant what he said. The man was too unfamiliar with modern times to catch the subtleties of Tevinter gay culture. Dorian remembered Abelas' gorgeous thighs all too well, still, and Solas' shoulders had made him drool whenever he had seen the elf changing his shirt in camp, but.. No. He would not go there. It would be too much.  
"It's a rule. You _have to_.", Dorian tried desperately.  
"My form is perfect. I have nothing to be ashamed of.", Elgar'nan informed him and started to take his clothes off. Dorian looked the other way as Elgar'nan piled his clothes on bath attendant's waiting arms, praying for the Maker to spare him from dreadful embarrassment, at least once in his life.

 

The Maker did not listen to him. Of course he did not.  
"Are all barbarians like you uncomfortable with high temperatures?", Elgar'nan asked as he lounged naked on the bench in the steam room. "I thought you would be used to warmth, considering the place where you lived. You look alarmingly red. Is it because you have fur?"  
The evil bastard had not lied when he claimed his body was perfect. It was, and Dorian hated him for it. He had considered the naked statue of Hessarian in Quarinus Chantry a representation of male perfection so far, and he was beyond mad knowing that forevermore, he would have a vision of naked Elgar'nan imprinted in his mind. It was just wrong.  
"Maybe.", Dorian said, trying to think of most repulsive things he could come up with. Like having sex with his mother's female friends. Or Mother Giselle. "They should make bigger bath cloths." For him to hide his embarrassment. Please.  
"We didn't have those in Elvhenan.", Elgar'nan told him, stretching like a cat. "I have to admit I like the heat. It's been ages since I felt truly warm. The box was cold and boring. Much like the Fade."  
"You think the Fade is boring?", Dorian took the opportunity. At least if they spoke, it made it easier for him to keep his eyes on elf's face.  
"Some people like it.", Elgar'nan shrugged. "But if the Fade was truly that interesting, nobody would have wanted to leave it and there would be no People."  
"Are you saying that the People, elves, were spirits originally?", Dorian asked, surprised.  
"Yes.", Elgar'nan replied. "I wasn't, but my Mythal was. She was first to take form and step out from the Fade. Others followed, later. It's hard to think you or the modern elves as real. You are so different, like reflections or dreams flickering for a brief moment before you are gone."  
Dorian considered it. If elves were originally spirits, it would explain so many things. Their immortality, slow lives, magic, Solas' odd ideas about Fade. Dorian wondered if the modern elves were like Cole would have been after few thousand years if the Inquisitor had allowed Varric to guide Cole to act more like a human. Varric had not liked Lavellan very much, he was still sore about Hawke and Lavellan's insistence about Cole's spiritual nature didn't help at all. Now Dorian found himself wondering if she had known. Damn. This was exactly what he didn't want to do. He did not want to understand or find excuses for elves ruining his world. They were bad, and that was it. He sneaked a look at Elgar'nan's direction and regretted it instantly. There were no words in Tevene for legs like those.  
"The heat is getting to me. I think I'll plunge in the ice pool.", Dorian said and hurried out from the steam room, keeping his back towards Elgar'nan.

 

Ice pool was a relief. Dorian decided to stay there until his skin turned blue. He was starting to feel pleasantly numb, and closed his eyes in relief, but then he heard the water of ice pool sloshing.  
"Oh, dear.", a familiar voice said next to him. "The steam room is entirely too hot for me."  
"Aunt Licinia?", Dorian asked.  
"Dorian!", his father's sister put hand on her mouth. "I almost didn't recognize you without the mustache! And you have tattooed something on your chest? Did you get it when you were in south? Is that what the Qunari savage did to you when he tied you up?"  
"No! And I have you know, he used silk ropes. Not hemp. Hemp is too rough for a sensitive skin like mine.", Dorian replied. "What are you doing here?"  
"Your mother dragged me here with her friends; she is thinking of investing in the spa and wanted to test the facilities.", aunt Licinia explained. Her face looked rather red for a woman standing in a ice pool. ´  
"Mother is here? With her friends?", Dorian repeated. "What did you say about the steam room?"  
"It's entirely too hot at the moment.", Licinia said, not meeting Dorian's eyes.  
"In which way?", Dorian demanded, hoping against hope that his aunt was talking about the steam room reserved exclusively for women.

Of course she wasn't.

 

"You must read it, messere Elgar'nan.", his mother's voice urged, sounding flustered like a girl. "The dragon throne scene between Keeper Vellanla and her manservant Lasso is classic! It got ten fluttering scarves from Randy Dowager!"  
"What is this Randy Dowager?", Elgar'nan asked curiously.  
"It is a leaflet publishing reviews of smutty literature.", Livia Pavus explained. "I read it to decide which publishing houses I should invest in."  
"Is it true that elven men are subservient to women?", Julia, one of the Livia's crones asked.  
"It depends on a woman, of course.", Elgar'nan said, leaning against the wall. He looked completely relaxed, sitting in the steam room surrounded by admiring women. Including Dorian's mother, his other aunt and two of his mother's friends. "Personally, I find powerful mages intoxicating. There is a fine line between the fight for dominance and the acts of passion. Crossing that line back and forth can make a man burn with desire."  
Elgar'nan's voice dropped down a register with last words, and Dorian felt a shiver running down his spine. Looking at his mother's expression, he was not the only one.  
"Mother.", Dorian said forcefully, crossing his arms over his chest. "I see you have met Elgar'nan. He is here as _my_ guest, and you _should not bother him_."  
The words had desired effect. Livia's smile vanished, and she asked, sounding disappointed:  
"Are you one of my son's friends, messere?"  
"No, not at all. He is my slave.", Elgar'nan said with a dazzling smile.  
"Oh, it's all right, then.", his mother said, giggling. "I guess we all are."  
Dorian could not believe what he heard. His mother, giggling, and making _slave jokes_. Evidently, someone had been to wine bar.  
"It's pleasing to meet someone who knows her place in the world like you do.", Elgar'nan complimented, sounding genuinely pleased. Of course he was. It all depended on one's world view.  
Livia blushed. Dorian's mother, who was rumored to be tougher than a silverite armor, actually blushed. Dorian was not sure if Elgar'nan's dislike of body hair and barbarians ran deep enough for this visit not to end in horrible disaster.  
"I'm sure your sentinels come soon to get us. The washing facilities on the ship are sadly lacking, and I recommend you should wash your hair before we leave. Ferelden does not import any good hair styling products.", Dorian said quickly.  
"It looks like palest rays of sun.", Julia said dreamily. "And feels like silk, I bet."  
"You could assist me.", Elgar'nan offered innocently. "Most of the bath assistants have fled the premises. It is a pity."

 

By the time the sentinels finally arrived, Elgar'nan had lured Dorian's mother and her friends into washing his hair, giving him a full body massage and practically doing everything the spa assistants would have done if they had been working there instead of killing humans on the streets. Dorian was sure he had cracked a teeth from gritting them together. It was bad enough to lust after someone as horrible as Elgar'nan, but to share the experience with his mother and aunts... It was just _wrong_.  
He could not deliver his master to Mythal soon enough. No wonder why elves still told stories of Mythal's steadying influence on Elgar'nan.  
The sentinels seemed to share his sentiment. Or maybe they just felt pity at Dorian, who was no longer above begging.  
"Please. We have to leave before he actually beds them.", he pleaded. "This is just a disaster waiting to happen. We have to get to Mythal."  
Considering the scene before him, the sentinel with blue vallaslin on his face went to Elgar'nan, starting to speak rapidly in elvish. Elgar'nan was actually listening, lounging naked on the divan and eating the grapes Dorian's aunt Licinia had peeled for him.  
"Is he always like this?", Dorian asked from the sentinel with red tattoos.  
The elf seemed to considered for a moment, and nodded.  
"Alas! Bring my clothes and my crown. We are leaving.", Elgar'nan raised his voice.  
Dorian had never heard words so welcome.


	9. Her chosen weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'Harel goes to conscript a griffon egg with Mahariel and Merrill, while Ellana delivers justice with her chosen weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes mentions of past rape and a bit of graphic violence.

"Can I ask you a question?", Merrill chirped as she, Mahariel and Fen'Harel trekked across the dusty landscape of Anderfells.  
Fen'Harel nodded warily. It had been Ellana's suggestion that he would take Merrill with him when he and Mahariel visited Weisshaupt fortress. He had to be seen with the Dalish, she had said, and Merrill was too curious to fear.  
"If you are really Fen'Harel, why are you bonding Mythal?", Merrill asked. "Did we get the part about Elgar'nan wrong too?"  
"No. Elgar'nan existed, and of all Dalish stories, your legends of him are least corrupted.", Fen'Harel replied reluctantly.  
"Everything is just so confusing.", Merrill continued. "I was taught to pray that you would not notice me, and it was my duty as the First to protect clan from you, respectfully, and suddenly I am going to steal a griffon egg with you because Mythal ordered me to. At least you haven't done any mad giggling yet, which is a good thing, because I have always thought it must sound very unnerving."  
"You are prattling again, Merrill.", Mahariel scolded with old familiarity between two friends. "And we won't steal the egg. I will conscript it."  
"But why do you need a griffon egg? Is it for magical rite of the ancients?", Merrill asked.  
"No.", Fen'Harel said. "It is a bribe, for Abelas."  
"Abelas is so shiny it's hard to look at him. His armor sparkles in the sun, and I am afraid his face would crack if he smiled.", Merrill offered. "You must be careful. People often smile at bonding ceremonies, and I am not very good at healing."  
"I remember meeting Mythal when our clans met. I think I was five or six summers old. We played Keeper and the Templars.", Mahariel mentioned, her eyes watching the scarred country.  
"Oh, I remember her too! She was younger than you.", Merrill said happily. "She covered our escape, staying behind to buy the hunters more time to get me into safety. I played the Keeper, since I had just gotten my magic. She baited the templars until two of the bigger boys forgot it was just a game and beat her."  
"The things Dalish chose to keep never cease to surprise me.", Fen'Harel said sarcastically. "Like teaching their children that the lives of the slaves do not matter, as long as you sacrifice yourselves to save your master."  
Merrill and Mahariel looked at each other.  
"Your perspective is skewed.", Mahariel said firmly. "You ancient people don't get it."  
"Get what?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"I don't care if the vallaslins were slave markings or not. We have taken them, they are ours now. I don't care about your slave rebellion either. You are just bitter because the Dalish society is better than yours, yet you of all people should be proud of it.", Mahariel said, her jawline tight. "We might not have your crystal spheres or immortality, but we don't have slaves either. Our Keepers do not rule us. They are our leaders, and we listen them because they are wise and it's tradition. Not because we have to."  
"My apologies, Warden. You have given me much to think about.", Fen'Harel replied.  
They continued their journey in silence.

 

Ellana was kneeling in the dirt and singing. She held a carved staff between her hands, and the Dalish hunters patrolling the forest edge had stopped in their tasks, serious looks on their faces. They knew what she was doing, yet Abelas did not. It always stung him to see his daughter like this. Although she insisted the People had to be one to survive, it was the Dalish and their rites she turned to in her hour of need. They were her People, no matter how misinformed children they were. Remembering the price paid for that sacrifice still tasted like bile in Abelas' mouth, and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to take steady breaths.  
She was calling up magic now, her own, not Mythal's. A sapling of a tree broke through the ground, and she poured power into it, weaving in enchantments to protect it from harm.  
"This is Morrigan's tree.", she said as she stood up.  
"We will remember.", the Dalish murmured.  
She nodded to them as thanks, and the group split up.  
"Father. A word, please.", she said, taking his arm.

"The power of the Well is lost to us.", she said in elvish as they walked further from the others. "Morrigan has died. I felt it. How she died, I don't know. Only that there was a uprising of elves in Minrathous."  
"This is a grave loss.", Abelas said, shaking his head.  
It was true. They held little enough power as it was, and although he didn't have much good to say about the witch, she had served. After Fen'Harel had told them the location of Elgar'nan's foci, Ellana had sent Morrigan to Tevinter, in hopes that she could find a way to take back the orb. Being a human mage, she could move more freely than any of the elves.  
"I grieve for her, father.", Ellana said sadly, pressing closer to him. "She was my friend, a sister, although Mythal drove us apart."  
Abelas looked at her, suspecting there was more. He remembered that look from years ago. Ellana had never been one to admit she was hurt. She had usually hovered around her parents instead, trying to find any excuse to get comforted without telling why. Her mother had disliked the habit, pointing out that was annoying to guess if the child was just frightened or if it was something more serious. And then she had accused him for passing his stoicism to their baby. Abelas had smiled, secretly pleased.  
Sighing at the foolishness of his da'len, Abelas embraced her and was not surprised when she instantly hid her face against his chest. At thirty, Ellana was a child still in his eyes. Had she been born before the fall of the gods, she would have lived in his house for centuries at least, learning to know herself and her magic in peace. Not hurried to make grave decisions like bonding or having children. Or become vessel for a god, lead an army or do any of the things she had done.  
"Eleven clans left today. I told them the truth about Mythal's murder, Fen'Harel and the fall of the Creators, and they didn't want to accept it.", Ellana murmured against his armor. "Clan Alerion was one of them. I should have known they would choose their old beliefs instead. Zarel was always a traditionalist."  
She could not bring herself to say it, but Abelas knew. Her son, Enethriel, was the Second of Clan Alerion, and the boy's father was their Keeper. He had kept an eye on the boy, not quite knowing what to make of him. It would not matter, now. The child was lost to them.

He wondered why his line always had to lose their children.

 

 

 The humans arrived two days later, waiting near the edge of the forest. A group of fifty armored men, holding a banners of two human nobles.  
"They wish to see our leader.", the breathless girl said to Ellana. "A man shouted that they have a message from the king."  
"They said that if we do not answer, they will have to bring force.", another patroller added.  
The elves were silent. Abelas saw fear on Shianni's face, Dalish hunters snarling in defiance. Silent resignation in Cyrion's eyes. Fiona looked merely worried.  
"I will go.", Ellana said calmly. "Father, do you have my Inquisition armor still stashed somewhere? It will be better welcomed than High Keeper robes."  
"Melana will get it from the armory while I gather the sentinels to accompany you.", Abelas replied and nodded to Melana, who left immediately.  
"No. I can't take sentinels. Seeing you will raise too many questions. We cannot let them think we are harboring some kind of secret here.", Ellana pointed out.  
"And you coming back from the dead isn't one?", Fiona asked.  
"It is the one thing which might confuse humans enough to buy us time.", Ellana replied firmly.  
"You will not walk to fifty armed humans alone.", Abelas said, his voice sharp. "We must accompany you."  
"No, Abelas.", Ellana said. "I already told you why. I will take Kallian with me."

Abelas was seething inside. Kallian could tell it from the way he rummaged through the box filled with daggers, his shoulders taut. Finally he found a pair to his liking and turning too quickly to see, he threw them to Kallian. She caught one, but not the other.  
"You are not good enough.", Abelas snapped. "Not fast enough. You might take one, maybe two if you are lucky, but not enough to buy her time to escape. And you always go for the throat."  
"It works. It makes shems mad enough to concentrate on me.", Kallian replied, slipping the daggers on her belt.  
"Only if your enemies are a rabble ready to take on anyone with pointed ears. Against focused troops who know their target, your tactics fail every time.", Abelas replied.  
Mythal paid no attention to them, donning a leather armor which had awful lot of buckles and shiny bits, with flaming eye on the front. She looked somehow different, harder and older wearing it. Like a Chantry-serving shem commander. Kallian didn't like it.  
"Tell the archers stand ready.", Mythal said to Abelas, her voice matter-of-fact. "I will signal if things go wrong. Standard Dalish signs."

Most of the people in the area had gathered to watch Mythal and Kallian as they walked towards the edge of the forest. Kallian fancied that she could have cut the tension in the air with her dagger. It was real enough to touch. They all had lived fool's dream all these months; those who did not accompany Mythal to her quests or gather food using eluvians, had not seen a single shem after their arrival. It had created an illusion of unparalleled safety, something they had never experienced. The shem patrols had been dealt with silently, the Dalish hunters quick to kill those who could not be turned away. Seeing Mythal walking to meet them woke up the old fear in the hearts of the elves. She carried their fragile hopes on her slight shoulders, and Kallian noticed more than few moving their lips in voiceless prayer. If Mythal heard, she didn't let her reaction show.  
Abelas' yellow eyes were cold and hard on them, and Kallian held herself a bit straighter, checking out the positions of the archers as Mythal took the first step leaving the shade of the trees. They were invisible to an eye, but Abelas had taught her a trick; if she focused her mind in right way, she could almost see a difference in the air to mark where an elf was. It was like watching a fire and seeing the heat. Kallian couldn't explain it. Fen'Harel claimed it was a remnant of magic all elves used to possess, but Kallian wasn't convinced. If she had even a drop of magic, Tevinter bastards would have noticed.

 

The shems saw them. Mythal didn't stop, she strode forwards looking confident. Kallian was starting to feel Abelas had been right. She should not be here, alone, trying to keep Mythal alive in the midst of fifty armored shem soldiers. They weren't doing anything threatening yet, if the stares and whispers didn't count, but Kallian still didn't like the odds.  
There were two shem lords. The man in fancier armor dismounted and started walking towards Mythal, while other one still sat on his horse, looking wary. Lord's armored boots made a sound against the stones, and Kallian fought the impulse to put her hands on her daggers. Andraste's tits, she was starting to think like a Dalish, wanting to kill shems just because they made a wrong kind of noise when they walked near her forest. Or maybe it was.. No. He couldn't be. But he was.  
As the shem took off his helmet and handed it to squire, Kallian saw Vaughan Kendell's smirking face. The bastard who had killed her Nelaros, raped her and Shianni repeatedly and finally sold them all to slavery was here.  
"You knew it was him.", Kallian's voice was merely a whisper.  
"Yes.", Mythal said quietly, keeping her face passive. "I recognized the heraldry. I will give you justice, but you must wait."

"I am Vaughan Kendalls, the Arl of Denerim.", the bastard said. "Are you the leader of the knife-ears who have ran into woods?"  
"I am.", Mythal replied, crossing her hands behind her back in confident gesture.  
"You look somewhat familiar. Have I had you?", Vaughan arched his eyebrows.  
Kallian felt anger blooming in her chest and rising upwards until she was sure she would choke on it, but Mythal snorted arrogantly.  
"You are hardly up to my demands as a lover.", Mythal replied.  
"Vaughan, she is with the Inquisition.", the other lord said quickly. "Looks like Herald of Andraste herself. She was an elf. I have seen the statue in Haven."  
Turning to Mythal, the lord asked politely:  
"My name is Arl Teagan of Redcliffe. Might I inquire your name?"  
"You may call me Lavellan.", Mythal said lightly. "Although I'm retired from Inquisition."  
"I'm not going to fall for your lie, wench. Herald was a Dalish elf. These two are just our regular knife-ears, gone into woods to seek their lost kingdom.", Vaughan snapped. "So you admit that you are the one responsible for all runaways?"  
"I already told you so.", Mythal replied calmly.  
"You stand witness, Teagan.", Vaughan looked at the second shem lord before turning towards Mythal again. "The Denerim alienage is practically empty. Apparently _all_ my knife-ears had a funny dream about some woman telling them to come home to Brecilian forest. At least so I was told by the ones whom I convinced to return to my service. I wondered how it could come to pass, but seeing you carry mage's staff on your back, it's clear. You are an abomination who lures my subjects away by using blood magic."  
Kallian wanted either run away to woods, never to see Vaughan again, or kill him on the spot. She wished she had a bow, because she wasn't sure if she could bear touching the man ever again without vomiting, but cutting his throat open with a dagger would feel more satisfying.  
"That is a grave charge, considering Divine Victoria has established Circle of Magi again.", arl Teagan said carefully. "You do not deny being an apostate?"  
"Of course not.", Mythal said. "The Circle of Magi is an abomination. Mages should be free."  
"Then I must ask you if it is true that you called the elves in their dreams?"  
"It is.", Mythal nodded, a slight smile on her lips.  
Every muscle on Kallian's body was tense. She wanted to scream for Dalish to shoot, to ask Mythal if she was mad to taunt the shems like this. And she wanted to wipe that horrible smirk from Vaughan's face. She remembered that smirk, the bastard telling her what a pretty little bride she had been, but her enthusiasm had not been quite real enough to convince him to keep his promise and spare Shianni. She had gotten through it all by thinking that only she had to suffer, that Shianni's safety was price worth of paying for her humiliation. To lower herself to do all that, to force herself play along with desperation and it had all been in vain, vain..  
"King Alistair sent me to represent the crown in this case. If you admit being an apostate and responsible of summoning spell which is clearly a powerful magic, I have to ask you to accompany us."  
"So you can judge me in Denerim and deliver to Circle of Magi who will make me Tranquil?", Mythal asked, sounding curious.  
"Yes.", Teagan said seriously.  
"Sadly, my authority outranks yours.", Mythal said, pulling off her left glove. Her palm shone with green light, a piece of Fade glowing inside her skin. "I am Ellana Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, the leader of Inquisition, and I demand a trial by combat, as is my right by Fereldan law. Kallian Tabris will face Arl of Denerim as my champion."  
The shems looked surprised. Kallian felt blood freezing in her veins. Fereldan custom of trial by combat was common enough in stories and Kallian knew it was binding. The one who won could not be accused about same crime ever again, but the one losing would be lucky if she just died.  
"I.. I have to accept, lady Lavellan. It is your right.", Arl Teagan said, still looking shocked.

 "You can't do this.", Kallian said to Mythal, pleading. "I can't be responsible for ruining our entire future if I fail you."  
"I though I had seen one of you before, but it was you, not her.", Vaughan said, his voice mocking as he looked at her. "The nose is broken, but the voice is familiar. _You can't do this._ I've heard that before. You're the bride! The first one! I always remember first ones."  
"First one?", Kallian repeated, as the Arl drew his sword.  
"I can't keep a count of you all.", Vaughan chuckled. "Your performance inspired me to make our little bridal party into a new decree. I call it 'Droit du seigneur' in Orlesian fashion. Sadly, the elves do not agree. Only a few are brave enough to marry. It's a pity."  
Kallian trembled with rage. Only thing holding her back was Mythal's hand on her shoulder.  
"Go for the throat.", Mythal told her, repeating Abelas' earlier words, and let go.

Kallian had dreamed of this moment so many times, but it felt different. There was no red haze or battle frenzy. A strange calmness descended on her, making every thought sharp and crystal clear. She was vaguely aware of shemlen soldiers watching, and Mythal standing on Arl Teagan's side, and even of the Dalish who hid among the trees. But her world had shrunk to Vaughan, who tried to bait her to strike first. She paid no attention, watching his moves instead. And then the opening came, just like the Dalish hunters had claimed. Armored humans were always a bit too slow. Kallian lunged.

Go for the throat. Kallian was not defender by nature. She went all way in, putting herself into harm's way to plunge her dagger into vulnerable point. It was a trade, but a bloody gash opening on her tigh was worth it when she got close enough to stab her dagger through his cheek. It was harder for him to hit back, since a great sword required a reach. Stupid bastard. Should have worn the helmet. Ignoring the pain on her side as Vaughan's sword slashed through her armor, she kneed him on the balls and. pulled the dagger out with her right hand. At the same time, Kallian stabbed the dagger in her left hand into his eye. Her leg gave a way, but she didn't need it anymore. Vaughan was screaming now, and all it needed was a cut across his throat with the free dagger. The screams ended abruptly, and the gurgle of blood was only sound left.

"You have been proved innocent, lady Lavellan.", Arl Teagan said slowly. The shems came to take Vaughan's body away. Kallian sat on the ground, unable to get up.  
She was still dazed when Mythal kneeled down next to her. Mythal laid her hands on Kallian's bloody tigh and poured cold power inside her. It made Kallian feel numb.  
"You kept your promise.", she said to Mythal, feeling stupid. Did Mythal truly hear their prayers? Kallian remembered Cyrion praying for justice, for vengeance, after Vaughan had finally let them go and she had walked back home with Shianni, her bridal finery stained with red and pale yellow. Mythal had promised her justice, mere moments ago, and she had delivered.  
"You were my chosen weapon, and you didn't fail me.", Mythal replied, moving her freezing touch to Kallian's side. She whistled, the melodious twirl of redcrest bird, and soon two Dalish hunters emerged from the woods.  
"Take her to healer.", Mythal said, and one of the hunters lifted Kallian up. She felt dizzy, and the world was moving in disturbing ways. When they reached the forest and stepped under the green leaves, Kallian saw Abelas staring at her.  
"She told me to go for the throat!", Kallian defended herself, and she thought she saw Abelas' lips curving into a tiny smile before she fainted.

 

She woke up later, in the healers' tent with Shianni sitting on her bedside.  
"You killed him! You really killed him!", her cousin said, her voice colored with pride and old pain.  
"Like a dog, Shianni.", Kallian replied, her voice thick and tired.  
"Good. Good..", Shianni said, smoothing Kallian's hair. "You are my hero, cousin. The healers say you will be all right. Only one spell more, and you will dance in Mythal's wedding with the best of them."


	10. The wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'Harel, Abelas and Ellana discuss Elvhenan literature.  
> Elgar'nan ignites a riot in Val Roeyaux by kidnapping a confectioner.  
> There is a wedding, and a surprise guest.  
> Fen'Harel makes the same old mistake again.
> 
> And my favorite; Abelas tells a love story.

"Our new kingdom seems to be shaping up to become a matriarchy. Of all possible things.", Ellana said lightly as three of them sat around table in Abelas' house for a breakfast.  
"People have to take guidance from somewhere, and the history of elves during last ten years is written of Dalish women.", Abelas stated. "Not many truly wish to have the freedom to rule themselves. Bringing back the castes from Elvhenan cannot happen, and those freed from Tevinter abhor magogracy as a principle. They have only recently realized that the Dalish practice it, and now the Dalish have hard time trying to explain how it is different. Judging on how many fights we had last week, they are succeeding somewhat."  
"My journey to north with Mahariel and Merrill was a success. We went to Weisshaupt to get a griffon egg.", Fen'Harel said. "The bonding ceremony is an excellent excuse for spying. Thank you, Abelas."  
"You started it with your trickery.", Abelas said coolly, taking another scoop of the stew and putting it on Ellana's plate without asking. Ellana stared at her plate and sighed.  
"Loghain gave very sincere condolences for your death, vhenan.", Fen'Harel said. "We were told that the First Warden was not there, and Logan is de facto commander. When I looked around in the Fade, there were no traces of him. A powerful person like him should leave traces in the stones of the fortress, like his predecessors have done. I told choice bits and pieces about Taint to Loghain, and he was very interested, saying that he has someone to look into it. Probably that Avernus Mahariel mentioned. He will have time to mull over the information, and I think he'll assist us when we are ready."  
"Did he ask how you know?", Ellana queried.  
"I saw it in the Fade.", Fen'Harel offered his stock answer.  
"I knew it.", Ellana chuckled. "It used to drive people mad in Inquisition. Everything anyone asked from Solas; he saw it in the Fade. Some of our companions started to make puns on how the Veil felt like in different places because they were fed up with his constant talking about the subject."  
"What about you, da'len?", Abelas asked.  
"I found it fascinating.", Ellana said with a shy smile.  
"You were always asking questions, vhenan. ", Fen'Harel said warmly. "And you were a quick student. I tried to teach the language of elvhen to Merrill during our journey, but she is slower to pick up words than you were."  
Abelas snorted.  
"You should not be so quick to congratulate yourself as a teacher, Fen'Harel. Ellana spoke perfect elvish when I left her with the Dalish. You merely reminder her of what she had forgotten."  
"Interesting. It does explain the accent.", Fen'Harel replied.  
"What is wrong with my accent?", Ellana wrinkled her eyebrows.  
"Nothing, vhenan. It's just.. round vowels of temple bred.", he grinned. "It was very popular thing in smutty literature three thousand years ago. Servants of Love and et cetera."  
Abelas and Ellana exchanged glances. They looked startlingly similar when they found something not amusing.  
"If Mythal recalls correctly, you were the hero of several very smutty books in your day.", Ellana said royally. "And you had no accent at all, since you didn't speak. You merely growled."  
"What would Mythal know about those books?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"I remember reading them to Elgar'nan in bed. The sex scenes were so bad that he laughed until tears ran over his face.", Ellana told sweetly. "We had the whole series. 'Dread Wolf Take Me' seven was his favorite."  
"The famous fish people scene?", Abelas asked.  
"Oh, yes. Elgar'nan _loved_ fish people scene.", Ellana reassured.  
Fen'Harel sighed. Some people had no sense of humor.

 

Ellana's hands were shaking as she attached small, white wildflowers in her hair. He noticed it, and was pleased that he was not only one who was feeling nervous. Fen'Harel was accustomed to public spectacles, but never like this. One's own bonding ceremony was an exception.  
"Let me.", he said and took the comb from her. He ran his fingers through the golden strands of her hair, enjoying the sensation, and then started to work.  
"It's unfair that I have to wear all of them.", she said. "Abelas told me that you should have half of those. What was your hair like?"  
"Ginger.", he replied. "When I was young, I had dreadlocks. That's how the name came to pass."  
She tried to stifle a giggle, but failed. He pressed a kiss on her neck.  
"Stay put, vhenan. You ruin my good work if you move too much."  
"But.. Dread Wolf?"  
"Yes.", he sighed. "My People loved their word games. They hardly could have expected the effect it had few thousand years later."  
Fen'Harel took another flower, weaving it in with others. He had spent most of the yesterday picking them up, earning smiles from the city elves and even some of the Dalish. Ellana's plan of humanizing him was clearly working.  
"Have you given thought what you wish to do once all this is over?", Ellana asked after a short silence. "I mean after we have saved the People and everything is back to way it was."  
"I imagine we would travel. I have seen many places filled with dreams I'd like to show you. We could come home twice a year to visit Abelas.", Fen'Harel offered. "I think there was a clause concerning it somewhere in that agreement he made me to sign."  
"You should read what you sign, emma lath.", Ellana tsked. "He spent considerable time writing it."  
"I read all thirty-two pages, but it was full of archaic references to Mythal's judgements.", Fen'Harel defended himself.  
The door opened and Melana walked in, carrying a tray. There was a glass jug filled with poisonous-looking green liquid, a cup and long spoon.  
"Keeper Zathrian says you should stir it before you drink. The halla blood doesn't mix very well with other ingredients."  
"Is this another gem of Dalish herbal medicine?", Fen'Harel asked warily. "Did you get all your recipes from Andruil's dinner parties? The smell certainly points that way."  
"It is not for you, Dread Wolf, although it is for your benefit.", Melana said to him before turning to Ellana. "Now, you know the taste doesn't get any better with waiting."  
Ellana looked at the jug with resigned expression and sighed. Forgoing the cup, she took the jug in both hands and started drinking the concoction under Melana's watchful eyes. The smell reminded Fen'Harel of partially rotten dead giant they had found in Emprise du Lion.  
"Is this really necessary?", he asked from Melana, trying not to breath too deeply.  
"We have had wonderful results with this so far.", the sentinel said. "Her health is much improved, and she's gotten some flesh on her bones. I think you'll see the difference later today, Fen'Harel."  
When Ellana heard Melana's remark, she swallowed wrong, and started to cough painfully. The tips of her ears turned rosy, and the blush spread to her cheeks. Melana laughed.  
"Go away.", Ellana said when she could speak again. "I thought you were supposed to be Mythal's faithful followers, not people committed to tormenting me."  
"Those tasks are not necessarily exclusive.", Melana grinned. "Any sentinel worth of her salt learns it early. But when you are done, come outside. The People are starting to break the casks, and it would be a pity if you missed your own party."  


 

\---

 

They couldn't reach the Brecilian Forest soon enough. The sea voyage with Elgar'nan had left Dorian scarred for life. The elf had insisted on stopping in Orlais to buy more books with Dorian's money since the God of Vengeance didn't have any. After Elgar'nan owned a copy of "Keeper Takes His Staff", "Swords and Shields", "Conscripted by Love" and "Fifty Shades of Grey Warden", Dorian had mistakenly taken Elgar'nan to a cafe which sold frilly cakes. The cafe supplied cakes to Emperor Gaspard himself, and catered all parties arranged by Chantry Ambassador Josephine Montelyet. Elgar'nan had tasted a bite of frilly cake decorated with sugar lace and chocolate beads, and announced it was first good-tasting food he had sampled in this Age. Then Elgar'nan had walked into kitchen, thrown the confectioner over his shoulder like a sack and told the sentinels to take everything needed to bake more cakes.  
They had left Val Royaux very quickly, with guardsmen on their heels. Elgar'nan had found it hilarious. After the poor kidnapped confectioner settled down in the ship mess, she had started plaguing Dorian with insane demands of special ingredients. At this point, Dorian would have gladly accepted a Dalish stew instead of a frilly cake, because diet consisting solely from sugary sweetness was making him feel a bit ill. Elgar'nan, of course, refused to eat anything else.

They passed the Dalish guards in the forest easily enough when Elgar'nan spoke to them. As they reached a camp in ruins, Dorian saw there was a party going on. People were drinking and dancing. He looked around desperately, knowing he had to find the Inquisitor before Elgar'nan found out about Solas and Mythal, and everything would go to hell. If the stories were true, she could protect him against Elgar'nan's wrath, and he might live another day.  
Finally Dorian spotted Inquisitor standing apart from the crowd, watching the dancers with a smile. Her hair was decorated with a lovely crown of white flowers, which cascaded down to her back, and she wore a beautiful gown of pale yellow silk.

"Lavellan!", Dorian screamed. He knew he looked stupid as he scrambled to hug her knees, but he was genuinely frightened.  
"Dorian?", she looked down, her eyes kind. "How are you here? What has happened to you?"  
"Give back my slave.", Elgar'nan demanded, walking towards them. Dorian imagined he could see the red glow of rage emanating from him.  
"Your slave?", Ellana repeated. "Dorian is my friend. He is not your slave. You will not have him."  
"Please protect me.", Dorian begged, still clinging to her leg. "He killed Calpernia and Feynriel, and he will kill me too."  
"Step aside.", Elgar'nan commanded.  
"I will not.", Ellana hissed, lifting her chin defiantly. It was the same look she had worn when she had faced Corypheus. Dorian shivered.  
"Do you know whom you are up against, shemlen?", Elgar'nan asked, his eyes fully black now. "I am the Eldest of the Sun, and light is mine to command."  
"I do not fear you.", Ellana replied. "You should fear me, because mine is the one will you shall bow to."  
"What manner of creature you are, if you can make a claim so outrageous?", Elgar'nan asked, his voice sweet and dangerous. Dorian felt a chill running through his spine.  
"I am what I am, Elgar'nan. What I have always been, and more.", Ellana replied.  
"Stop it!", Kallian shouted, pushing her way through the people who had gathered to watch. She walked to Ellana's side, facing Elgar'nan.  
"You are a guest in a wedding. Behave yourself. You can sort out your issues later.", Kallian said.  
"Whose wedding?", Elgar'nan asked spitefully. "I take you are the bride, but who is the groom?"  
"I am.", Fen'Harel said.  
"Fen'Harel? What happened to you? Where is your hair?", Elgar'nan turned rapidly towards him.  
"You can talk about hair and other godly business in there.", Kallian pointed towards the cave Abelas used for armor storage. It was not the best possible place, but it was better than sorting out this fiasco in public. A wedding didn't generally benefit from more than one husband.  
"Will you take care of Dorian?", Mythal asked quietly from Kallian as she followed the men to cave. "It would be best if he just accidentally slipped away. A shemlen is not safe here."  
Kallian nodded.  
"I will return when it is done.", she promised and went to take care of the task she had been given.

 

 

"I can give you a horse, some food, and send a word for our scouts that you have Mythal's permission to leave.", Kallian said as she led the shemlen man towards the meadow where the elves kept their horses.  
"Thank you.", the man said. He had Tevene accent.  
"Do not thank me.", Kallian replied. "I have no reason to love your kind, after you held me and my family in slavery for ten years."  
"We're even, then. He made me his slave.", the man looked angry and bitter.  
"One elf enslaving one magister makes it right for Tevinter to enslave thousands of us?", Kallian asked. "Don't bullshit me. Slavery is always wrong. If you were a slave, you should abhor the very thought of it happening to anyone else, not trying to find a reason to get even. Having the numbers match does not make it right."  
The man mounted on a horse and took a sack Kallian offered to her.  
"What are you then, if not a slave?", he asked.  
"I am Mythal's chosen weapon.", Kallian said, lifting her chin proudly. "She granted me justice, and I was her instrument. She is our Great Protector. Our Mother."  
The shem didn't get it. He shook his head and clicked his tongue at the horse. Kallian sent the signal to patrols, informing they should let the shem out, and returned to Mythal.

As Kallian entered the storage cave, the elvhen gods were sitting on boxes and discussing something in elvish.  
"I did what you asked.", Kallian whispered to Mythal. "What are they saying?"  
"It appears my sources have misunderstood what happened after I died.", Mythal replied quietly.  
Kallian took a spot on her side, keeping watch and letting the elvish words roll over her.

 

"It didn't happen that way.", Elgar'nan said, crossing his legs. "After you died, I ordered everyone to gather at your temple. I wanted to find out who had murdered you. I suspected Geldauran or maybe Daern'thal. But it was Dirthamen. I smelled your blood on the hands of our own son, and.. I went mad with rage."  
"Elgar'nan drew his sword and stabbed Dirthamen in back. Then he turned his magic on him, and blood started to gush through his eyes.", Fen'Harel said quietly. "We didn't understand what had happened, why he did it. Falon'Din panicked and attacked Elgar'nan, trying to save his twin. Andruil laughed like a madwoman, and everyone joined the fray, on one side or another. Everyone except me and June."  
"Is this why I see him like that, every time I enter Fade and look for him?", Ellana said, her voice small and hurt. "All his statues weep blood. I never thought it would be your sword."  
"I don't remember much of what happened.", Elgar'nan continued, his eyes hollow. "I remember Fen'Harel and June pushing Ghilan'nain through your eluvian and locking her inside. Andruil became furious, and Dirthamen kept screaming something about Andruil's shard and how your death was her fault, so I lashed at Andruil. Her spirit was thoroughly covered in that black thing, and I made her burn with light. Sylaise tried to defend her."  
"I told Falon'Din to take Dirthamen and jump through the second mirror before Elgar'nan killed them both. It was the one you used for prison cells for those waiting for judgement.", Fen'Harel said. "He took his brother and ran, and I locked them inside, too. The fight between Andruil, Sylaise and Elgar'nan had left the temple and was raging through the Golden City by then. Every arrow Andruil shot, every blast of magic polluted the ground it touched. The City was turning black, and the People ran on the streets, screaming for help."  
"June begged for Sylaise to see reason, and seeing the destruction Andruil wrought, Sylaise held her on place for long enough for us to contain Andruil and lock her away. But Sylaise was infected with the taint, and seeing it, she turned her own flame on herself.", Fen'Harel continued grimly.  
"She died.", Elgar'nan said flatly. "She could control Fire, but not like I, and I was too far gone to help her. She burnt herself out in mere minutes. Last thing I remember was Fen'Harel brandishing his orb at me and June, calling up all kinds of rubble from the ground."  
"We had ran out of mirrors since you had broken most of them.", Fen'Harel said dryly. "I sent your spirit into dream, and June built a iron-hinged box where we put you. I never expected to see you interrupting my wedding."  
"Serves you right for stealing my wife.", Elgar'nan snapped.  
"Excuse me, but I am the wronged party here.", Fen'Harel said indignantly. "Your Mythal conspired to steal the body of my fiance to use her as a vessel, showing blatant disregard for the laws of Elvhenan and agreements between gods. If not for the indomitable focus of ma vhenan--"  
"It does not matter.", Elgar'nan said sharply. "She has a mortal body. It makes her weaker than Andruil. After Mythal died, I became.. uncontrollable. I cannot afford it to happen again. You need me for destruction and fire, and I need her to tell me when to stop. When Andruil sees her, when these diminished People see us, they must see Elgar'nan and Mythal, the two sides of the same power. Otherwise Andruil will kill her, and everything will be even worse than it is now. We need the People for magic, and controlling the masses is only possible if they believe we are the first Creators of Elvhenan. Whatever you feel towards Ellana, whatever I feel towards my Mythal, these are meaningless things compared to fate of the world and fate of our People. We can solve this odd tangle with bonds and souls after everything is back in the way it was. We can't afford to deal with it now."  
"You are right.", Fen'Harel said, bowing his head in defeat. "Personal feelings must be set aside until we have remade the world. There is no place for them in this one. We cannot risk being divided at the face of opposition. The humans will come for us sooner or later, and the People must be led. I cannot lead them; their false stories are rooted too deep. It must be your responsibility."  
"You have changed while I slept.", Elgar'nan noted. "You have grown up. Tell me what you truly want, Fen'Harel? What is your heart's desire?"  
Fen'Harel looked at Elgar'nan. His features were achingly familiar, first truly familiar thing Fen'Harel had seen since he woke up from his slumber. They had clashed many times, had many differences, but Elgar'nan was only one who truly understood what had been lost. Fen'Harel knew his vhenan did not. The elvhen glory was nothing but a faded memory to her, because Ellana had never known any other life than the hardship among the Dalish. Mythal's memories were tales to her, much like veilfire writing which could bring back emotions, pictures to accompany the words.  
"I want my world back.", Fen'Harel said. "Without slaves. I want to tear off the Veil, and let magic flow free."  
"If that is what you want, Dread Wolf, I can accept that.", Elgar'nan said. Fen'Harel felt his magic touching his, sealing the deal.  
"There will be no slaves, and no Veil, but you will work with me, not against me in this. I will revenge our world and burn the every last bit of the dark thing from all Thedas, for it took everything from me. My wife, my son, our world. There can be no forgiveness for that. No justice. Only vengeance.", Elgar'nan smiled, his eyes bright in the darkening night. "But first, I need enough power to open my orb."

 

Fen'Harel and Elgar'nan were still arguing loudly in elvish, and Kallian didn't understand one word about it. But she understood the frozen look on Mythal's face, and saw how her nails pressed hard against the skin of her palms. She had been there, done that. Kallian Tabris knew everything about weddings gone wrong, and if something wasn't done soon, it would end in blood and a dead husband. Or two.  
"Come.", she commanded, and took Mythal's arm. Mythal felt warm, like an elf, and Kallian hadn't been struck dead for committing heresy - yet - , so she pulled harder.  
"What is it?", Mythal asked, her voice fragile.  
"Listening those two will not make you feel better, and seeing you only feeds their fight. I know everything there is to know about crappy weddings, because mine was even worse. There is only one thing which helps. We have enormous amounts of booze, and music, and friends. This is still your wedding, your party. It's first real celebration we've had here, and people want to see you happy. It would make easier for them to forget all the shit we have gone through. Let your hair down and have a bit fun with us. You can sort out the husband fiasco tomorrow. Maybe get a third one, if those two don't please you.", Kallian suggested.  
"Third one?", Mythal repeated, a faint amusement appearing on her too pale face.  
"Too much even for you?", Kallian asked.  
"Might be.", Mythal replied, but she followed Kallian outside. As soon as Shianni saw them, she hurried to give a tankard of Cyrion's best and strongest to Mythal, who emptied the mug swiftly.  
"I didn't know you could drink like that.", Shianni said, her eyes smiling with appreciation, taking the empty tankard back. Back in Denerim, she had been too fond of drinking. Slavery had ended that. Probably only good thing which came out of it.  
"I used to travel with a qunari. After we slayed our first dragon, he offered their special brew which killed the nerve endings in my throat.", Mythal shrugged. " They haven't grown back since."

 

Sun was setting down, and the forest was lit by magic. It was really pretty, Kallian thought, and she was pleased to see that Mythal was smiling while she danced with a Dalish hunter. Loranil, his name was, if Kallian remembered right. Shianni had disappeared in the bushes with Mythal's prophet, Zevran, and even Cyrion had braved the dancing area with Fiona. People were happy, and nobody seemed to be too bothered that Mythal's wedding didn't include a husband.  
"You did well.", a tall, armored form appeared in front of Kallian.  
"You almost scared me!", Kallian said, shaking her finger at Abelas. "You shouldn't appear from nowhere like that."  
"You should pay more attention to your surroundings.", he said, sitting down on a bench next to her. "But we will work on that tomorrow. You did extremely well tonight. It takes courage to walk into argument. It can get you killed, or worse, when the ones arguing are Creators."  
"She was hurting.", Kallian said. "And those two idiots didn't even notice. They were too busy with their own pissing contest. Nobody should have a crappy wedding."  
Abelas made a agreeable hum, but didn't ask. Kallian liked that about him. He never pried.  
"I used to be married, you know.", Kallian said conversationally, taking a drink from a bottle she had hidden under the bench. "For four minutes. His name was Nelaros."  
"I wanted to get married once.", Abelas replied, taking the bottle Kallian offered. He took a long drink and looked at dancers with wistful look on his face. "I was guarding Well of Sorrows at the time. It was near the end of Fereldan rebellion against Orlais. A girl appeared on our doorstep one day, badly wounded and bleeding to death. She was alone, and no threat. We pitied her and decided to take her in."  
Abelas took another swig and continued, his eyes never leaving the dancing form of Mythal:  
"She was a skilled archer, from Fereldan rebel regiment called Night Elves. A small team had been sent to cut the Orlesian supply lines, but the rebels had a traitor in their midst, and their attack had been expected. She was from shemlen city, and didn't speak one world of elvish. We could not let her leave, and there was nowhere for her to go. So she stayed, learning our ways, and our language."  
"What happened?", Kallian asked.  
"She did not have magic, and she wasn't a servant of Mythal. When we slumbered, she stayed awake, alone in the temple. It was not much life for her. She had been barely more than a girl when she came to us, and when I next woke up, she was a woman, smiling at me. We fell in love.", Abelas said, a trace of sadness in his voice. "When my brothers and sisters fell asleep again, she was pregnant. She begged me not to leave her alone, and I tried to fight the compulsion with best of my ability, praying for Mythal to care for the mother of my child in her holy temple."  
"Mythal heard our prayers, because I didn't fall asleep.", Abelas continued his story. "The baby was born, and we raised her in the temple. She was her mother's despair and delight, like all children are. We were happy for a time."  
He picked up the bottle again, and Kallian considered taking it back before Abelas drank it all, but she had a nagging feeling that his story was not going to end happily, so she didn't say anything about the wine. She could get herself another bottle.  
"And then?", she encouraged him.  
"Then Ellana turned three.", Abelas nodded to himself. "I was teaching her about our gods to give her mother some much-needed rest. We had looked at the mosaics in courtyard and she wanted me to show how the pilgrims had danced for the glory of Mythal. She was barely tall enough to reach my knee, a little thing with big blue eyes. I took her hand and taught her the steps. She laughed when the magic lit under our feet. We danced over the pilgrim's path, all four parts. In the end of the path, there was a prayer. I read out the words for her, and she repeated them after me, eager to do it right. Her mother was watching us from the upper floor, amused at her enthusiasm."  
Yep. The story was definitely going to end badly. Kallian felt it in her bones.  
"Mythal answered.", Abelas said, his voice cool, betraying no emotion. "Mythal spoke to us through her statue, and told me to take the child to a Dalish clan and leave her there. I am bound to Mythal's will, like all sentinels, while my love was not. She fought me every step on the way to eluvian, screaming that I would not take her child from her while she drew breath. Ellana was crying hysterically, not understanding what was happening. I tried my best not to hurt my love, but she was a true warrior and held nothing back. We were both bleeding when I reached Well of Sorrows and the eluvian there. I was dragging Ellana with me. Her mother stood by the well, and said that if I took her child away from her, she would spoil the Well the moment we were gone. Her eyes blazed with fury and desperation. I knew she spoke the truth."  
Abelas drank the last of the wine, putting the empty bottle on the bench between him and Kallian.  
"Guarding the Well was my sacred duty. It was only reason for our existence, and I could not disregard my duty any more than I could disobey Mythal's direct order. So I put the child down and killed my lover. My love laid in the pool of her own blood by Well of Sorrows, and when I turned to look at Ellana, she was staring at us, her eyes huge and blue, just like her mother's. She had stopped crying and was too frightened to make any sound. I lifted her up and walked through the eluvian. It took four days for us to find a Dalish clan, and she didn't speak a single word during that time, not until she understood I was going to leave her there. The Keeper was an old man, and couldn't hold her strongly enough. She bit his hand and ran to me, clinging to my leg and begging me not to leave her. The clan stared at her. They didn't understand but a few words from her speech, because she spoke only the language of Elvhenan, and she didn't understand a single word they said. I pried her fingers open, and two hunters held her between them as I turned away and left. I don't know what was worse, hearing her calling me or the moment I got too far to hear her any longer. I returned to temple and buried my love. Her blood had stained the stones around the well. It took a long time to wash it off."  
"Fasta vaas.", Kallian said in Tevene, shaking her head. It was only thing from Tevinter she liked. Their curses were good.  
"I'm not telling this to you to ask for compassion. It is a warning.", Abelas said, turning to look at her for first time since he had started his story. "Tonight you didn't act like a fighter in service of Mythal. You were her sentinel, not Mythal's Blade. There is a difference, and you would do well to consider it carefully. Becoming a priest means you pledge your life in the service of your god, forever. You would be bound to her will. Not every god can bear to have followers. Fen'Harel doesn't want them. But even a god needs her weapons, her voices and her hands to do her work. Great things cannot be achieved alone."  
"What happened to your daughter?", Kallian asked.  
"She grew up among the Dalish, and they trained her to be the First of her clan. Mythal told her Keeper to send her to spy on the peace negotiations between mages and templars. My daughter was there, when the Breach opened, and she became the Inquisitor, accidentally stealing back the magic which had been stolen from Fen'Harel. She fell in love with the Dread Wolf who had disguised himself as an apostate mage. She sacrificed herself to save the People by becoming Mythal's vessel, and today she was supposed to bond Fen'Harel.", Abelas said.  
"Ah.", Kallian said. "This is what you mean when you talk about that sweet sacrifice of duty-thing."  
"Yes. The correct word is halam'shivanas.", Abelas nodded. "Mythal asks much, but she does not ask without a reason. A girl raised inside the walls of a forgotten temple could not have done what Ellana did."  
"You have given me much to think about.", Kallian sighed, standing up. "I should check on how she is doing. If Fen'Harel doesn't show up soon, people will think he and Elgar'nan are secret lovers making out in our storage room."  
Abelas watched Kallian walking by the serving table. She slipped two cakes in her pockets and then headed towards the cave on the edge of the clearing. Her posture was relaxed, and she munched a frilly cake, not giving any hint she had confronted two angry spirits who could kill her without even bothering to snap their fingers. The woman was definitely a sentinel.

\--

 

Abelas stirred when he felt a tug in wards around the house perimeter. The dawn hadn't broken yet, and when he checked Ellana, she was still sleeping under the furs, lips slightly parted. Satisfied, Abelas turned on his side and closed his eyes again. He was just slipping back to dreams, when he felt the tug again, stronger this time. Annoyed, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Abelas could hear the soft rain falling on the roof, and he was not eager to venture outside just because the Dread Wolf wanted to see his daughter in the middle of the night. Since the man had never bothered to show up after Elgar'nan's arrival, Fen'Harel could wait until the morning, like--  
This time, it was not a tug. More like a battering ram, breaking the wards by force. Cursing inwardly, Abelas got up and opened the window.  
"Go away, Fen'Harel.", he hissed into dark. "It's not even dawn yet. You can beg forgiveness after the sun rises. The least you could do after abandoning her at her own wedding is to let her sleep!"  
"Is that any way to speak to your Creator?", Elgar'nan asked, standing on the ground. He was alone, still wearing a crown made from twigs and leaves.  
"I will tell her you are here.", Abelas said slowly. "Wait a moment."  
He slammed the shutters close, knowing it was not a thing one should do to Eldest of the Sun but doing it nonetheless, and ignited the veilfire torch on the wall.  
"What is it, father?", Ellana asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Noise had woken her up. "Is it finally Fen'Harel?"  
The hope in her voice was undeniable, and she looked lovely in the glow of veilfire, eagerly waiting news of her love. Abelas had known this would happen, had warned against rekindling the romance for this very reason, but it didn't make his task any easier.  
"It is not Fen'Harel.", he said with heavy heart. "It's Elgar'nan, waiting for you. I am so sorry."  
For a moment, she looked like a halla stricken with a mortal wound, which had not quite taken hold yet.  
"I am sorry too, father.", Ellana whispered, looking down. But she was his daughter, and it was not her nature to let her hurts show. She stood up, throwing a shawl over her nightgown, and stepped through the Fade to descend safely down from the window sill.

Ellana walked to him fearlessly, pulling the shawl around her shoulders to shield herself from the coldness of night. She pressed one hand against his chest, and Elgar'nan could feel familiar blue calm spreading inside his body, taking away his anger. It was feeling he had never thought to experience again, and he was powerless in it. He dropped to his knees in shock, staring at strange elf, and his heart was filled with terrible hope as he asked in small voice:  
"Mythal?"  
"No, Elgar'nan. I only carry what is left of her.", Ellana said gently.  
Elgar'nan grabbed her by waist, hiding his face against her robes. He wept bitterly, in ragged sobs, and held her with all his strength.  
"Do not grieve, my sun.", she said softly, using the familiar endearment which made his heart ache. "All hope is not lost. Mythal clawed her way through ages, and although she is but a shadow of what once was, she endures still."  
Ellana put her hands on his shoulders, feeling his body tremble as he wept. For Elgar'nan, the pain of Mythal's death was a fresh wound which still bled, considering he had been sleeping for a very long time. She looked up to the house, where Abelas stood by the window. She nodded and Abelas closed the shutters, leaving them alone with their sorrows.

 

 

 

 


	11. My redemption is not yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elvhen gods make their own choices after the wedding gone wrong. The shemlen faith stirs.

Fen'Harel knew he had to confront Ellana when he noticed Mythal's Blades and her sentinels were starting to work in shifts to ensure they had enough rest. It had been a week after the wedding, and Ellana was never around when he tried to meet her to talk. He couldn't find her in the Fade, since she seemed to have given up sleeping entirely, and she spent all her waking hours answering the People who called for her help. Ellana came back to camp only to switch the groups accompanying her, and then headed out again.

After Fen'Harel had figured out the shift schedule, it was a simple thing to wait for her to appear to ruins where eluvian was held. And he had been right; he didn't have to wait long before the Fade was ripped open and a group of elves stumbled out. They wore a travelling garb and many of them had been wounded. Ellana herself was covered in blood spatters, but if she had been wounded, she didn't let it show. She simply went to Melana who offered her another bottle filled with icky green liquid and drank it while Shianni took charge of new arrivals.  
"That smells horrible.", Elgar'nan remarked from his side. "Why she doesn't eat cakes?"  
Elgar'nan had an annoying habit of drifting around camp, watching curiously and then reporting every oddity of this Age to Fen'Harel. Fen'Harel expressly did not wish for company, but Elgar'nan didn't care. He never had. The man just barged in like a druffalo.  
Fen'Harel ignored him, determined to talk with Ellana before she left.  
"Vhenan.", he said. "We need to talk."  
"About what?", she asked, finishing the green concoction and handing the bottle back to Melana.  
"Are you mad at me about something?", Fen'Harel asked, feeling uncomfortable about the audience but he doubted she would agree to talk in private. "I know the bonding ceremony did not go as we planned, but we simply must wait. Think of this as a slow arrow, the only way to approach a change which could not be obtained in any other way-"  
"I don't care about your slow arrows!", Ellana yelled. "You wanted to have a permanent bond, and I asked for time to think. Then when I agreed, you wanted to have a wedding, and you dumped me in front of the People. I wore the crown and the dress and everything, and you didn't bother even to tell me you were not going to follow through with the bonding part! I just listened you agreeing with Elgar'nan that same shit about duty and the good of the people and whatever. In another world, vhenan! I've heard that already. If it had happened only once, I could forgive myself, but letting it happen to me twice was plain stupid!"  
Elgar'nan cackled with glee.  
"And you!", Ellana spun around, feeling furious. "You are as bad as him! You said the stupid part about bonds and souls, and how you would untangle it after our work is done. You didn't even bother to ask what I thought, so I will tell you now: I will not be shared like some cake which can be cut into two. One part Lavellan, one part Mythal - it's not going to happen, ever! I'm perfectly fine just the way I am, and if that's a problem for you or Fen'Harel, you both can go suck a magister cock!"   
She slammed the eluvian open with force which shook the glass.   
"Come, Zevran. We'll check out your cult, now.", she ordered, and marched inside.  
"A cult of Mythal where all members are very dangerous assassins.", Zevran clarified happily. "I recruited my former associates from Antivan Crows. A good thing to keep in mind, eh?"  
As the surface of mirror became solid again, Elgar'nan looked at Fen'Harel incredulously:  
"Did that shemlen elf just threaten us?"  
"He is not the first. I found a rabbit skull stuffed with hay at my door this morning.", Fen'Harel replied, feeling like idiot. He had not expected she would think it like that, but of course she did. His reasonable choice had stabbed her in sore spot. "It is a Dalish curse totem."  
"I had one as well, neatly placed on my breakfast tray. I thought it was just a piquant piece of interior decorating.", Elgar'nan replied, his eyes wide. "What is wrong with these modern elves?"

 

It was fourth night after her outburst when Ellana searched and found Fen'Harel in the Fade. She appeared in his dream dressed in blue silks spun from twilight sky, a fashion once favored by Mythal. He could not sense anger or sadness, but she kept her distance, studying him with careful eyes. It felt like she was appraising him for some unknown purpose, as she stood there, holding Keeper staff of clan Lavellan in her hand.  
"Your eagerness to bow to Elgar'nan's will surprised me.", Ellana said. "I wish to hear the reasoning behind your decision."  
"It does not please me to agree with him, but he is right. The People are divided, we are divided, and it is a risk we cannot take, vhenan. Faith is our tool, as much I dislike being worshipped, and it is the only one we can use to convince People to follow us. ", Fen'Harel told her. "Most of the city elves are slaves you saved from Tevinter. The ancient elves are all your sentinels, and the Dalish came because you asked them to. But your grip is still a fragile thing, and pushing them too much too soon could ruin everything. If Elgar'nan had not arrived when he did, I could have stepped up to your side. But he is with us now. Properly controlled, he was a capable leader, and his power can benefit our cause. For you and me, it means we have to choose another way, shoot a slow arrow."  
"What does that mean?", she asked.  
"I have to prove myself, to give our People new stories to make them forget the old ones. After the People are immortal again, after they have their magic back, the Veil is gone, and Elvhenan is rebuilt.. Then I will come to you, vhenan, and we can be together.", Fen'Harel promised.   
"How long you think it will take?"  
"I can't say. Five years? Ten? Twenty?", Fen'Harel said, spreading his arms. "I don't know."  
"You are convinced this is the right decision? To put the good of the People, as you described, before everything else?", Ellana asked.   
"It is my redemption.", he replied. The honesty of words coming out from his own mouth frightened Fen'Harel. "I thought I made the right decision when I locked the others away. It was not something I did by accident; I thought about the corruption and slaves and everything we had gotten wrong, and I honestly believed that locking them away to contain the Taint was better option than rallying the People to fight it. I believed the People could govern themselves, to be free, and the world would be a better place without the pantheon. When I finally woke up, and saw what had come to pass, I was horrified. I am not responsible of the Taint, but I am responsible for the blight of our People. It is a regret too deep to put in mere words. I must go back, pick up the pieces and try again, to get it right this time. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself otherwise."  
Her face was a mask, impossible to read.   
"I would not take your redemption from you, Fen'Harel.", she said. "I understand."  
"Thank you, vhenan.", he said, touched.  
"I hope you will extend the same understanding to me, my love.", she replied cryptically and faded away.

 

 

They were leaning against trunk of a tree, snuggling against each other for warmth, comfort and a show of unity to the People. The late summer nights were starting to get chilly, but Elgar'nan had one arm thrown over Ellana's shoulders, holding her close. He held a open book with his free hand, reading aloud:  
"The Guard-Captain knew they had lost the fight. She was standing over the body of her fallen lover, holding a broken sword in her hand. Her armor was all but gone, scorched by the flames of magic, and she was bleeding from a thousand cuts the demons had inflicted on her. But as she looked at Cinnod's unconscious form, she knew deep in her heart that she would die thousand times to save him, go to Maker's side happily and without regrets.", Elgar'nan read, his beautiful voice calling up the ancient echoes of doomed love through the Veil. He felt Ellana moving a bit, pressing closer to him. Entwining his fingers with hers, Elgar'nan turned the page and continued:  
"The blood mage approached them, and the Guard-Captain steadied herself for one last, desperate attack. He would not have Cinnod as long as she drew breath. Mage's black eyes glinted in the firelight, and his voice held a dark promise as he spoke: "There is no need for you to die, Guard-Captain. I am a reasonable man, and I can offer you your heart's desire. You can save the life most precious to you. All it takes is one little word. All it takes is 'yes'"."  
"It didn't happen that way!", Merrill shouted from a little further where a group of elves sat around a fire. It was obvious they were listening, yet pretended not to.  
"Be silent, Keeper, or I will rip your tongue out.", Elgar'nan commanded sternly. "Where were we, dearest?"  
"Page 72.", Ellana supplied quickly. She had never thought to develop intense liking to smutty literature, but listening Elgar'nan read was fascinating. He spiced the words up with magic, imparting emotions, pictures and sounds like veilfire in Elvhenan.  
"Oh yes.", Elgar'nan nodded and continued:   
""What would you have me to do?", the Guard-Captain asked, "I will not give my soul to fuel your dark dealings." The blood mage laughed. "It is not your soul I am after. It is your body, which has tormented my dreams so many nights." The Guard-Captain turned pale as the words dawned to her. The mage stepped closer, the fire of lust burning in his black eyes. "Yes", he promised. "Give me one night with you, and I will make you writhe with hunger you have never known. I've seen the demons of desire, and they all wear your face."", Elgar'nan's voice was like a velvet brushing against bare skin in the dark, and it sent shivers down on her spine.   
"The Guard-Captain knew this was not a fight she could win with her sword. She looked at the bloodmage, then her lover who was bleeding on the ground, and knew there would be no rescue. Whatever she chose, the answer she would give, her decision would decide their fates. Oh, what to do? She would walk away from this battlefield with loss; either she would give up the purity of their love, or their lives. "What is your decision?", the mage asked, and the Guard-Captain hardened her heart to cutting edge, knowing she could not choose otherwise. She parted her lips and said..."  
"Said what?", Ellana demanded.   
"You'll have to wait until tomorrow.", Elgar'nan said royally and shut the book.   
"No! It's simply cruel to stop now!", Ellana protested.   
"I'm tired, and I will not spend another night freezing in a uncomfortable tent, while I have perfectly good temple within a reach of eluvian. My confectioner has already taken over the kitchen, and my sentinels have cleared out the rubbish, so I'm staying there.", Elgar'nan informed her. "I'll meet you again tomorrow. Unless you wish to accompany me?"  
"It depends. Will you read the next chapter if I do?"  
"I could.", Elgar'nan considered.   
"In that case, I will come.", Ellana decided, surprising him. "Lead the way."

 

"So. If we are going to raise Arlathan and remove the Veil, it requires at least three orbs. Sadly, I'm not yet strong enough to open mine. I need more power.", Elgar'nan said as they dined in the temple courtyard. The table had been set by a pool of water.  
"I have made.. preparations.", Ellana replied.  
"What kind of preparations?",.   
Ellana looked at him, clearly feeling very uncomfortable.  
"There is a cult. In Antiva. They are ..devoted to our cause, and I think their skill set complements your dominion very well."  
"What kind of cult? Are you sure they will be sufficient?", Elgar'nan asked. She looked like a trapped hare, and he could not resist the chance to torment her. "This is extremely important, and you have not mentioned any cults before. I would like to know more before we agree to use them."  
"It's because I don't like to talk about the ritual, or even think about it!", Ellana snapped, her face burning bright red. "It's the most embarrassing thing I've ever heard of, and it might be that I'll just keel over and die of shame before it's completed."  
"It would not do.", Elgar'nan said, looking like a cat waiting for a plate of cream. "Negative thoughts could ruin the whole ritual, and then we'll have to do it all over again. We have to work on your attitude, my dearest."  
"There is nothing wrong with my attitude.", Ellana replied. "Yours, on the other hand, is horrible."  
"Now that's your modern prejudice talking.", Elgar'nan said, not worried at slightest. "I know where my talents lie, and I'm convinced you will be vastly enlightened after few practice rounds."  
"I'm not going to do any practice rounds! Even thinking of elven glory would not get me through it more than once!"  
"And you came to my temple to tell me that?", Elgar'nan asked, arching his eyebrows. "Please, dearest, I'm not dumb. If you wanted to tell how much you don't want me, you could have told it tomorrow when we meet with Fen'Harel."  
Her shoulders slumped down, and she looked at her plate, having lost her appetite.  
"I'm just.. Elgar'nan, I'm a mortal."   
He laid down his fork, took a sip of wine and waited.  
"Fen'Harel agreed to step aside because he wants to save the People. He called it his redemption, and knowing the depth of his regrets, I cannot take it away from him. But I'm a mortal, Elgar'nan. I do not have ten, twenty, thirty years to wait. I'd be surprised if I have more than five years left.", she said, her eyes too bright. "My body is not strong enough to bear the power of the orb. I can control it, and it calls to me, but it burns through me every time I touch it. I'm wasting away, and I don't want to die."  
  
Elgar'nan looked at the shemlen elf at his table, and now that he knew to search for them, he could see the lines where the magic had started to carve into her. The process was slow, much like water corroding the stone, but inevitable. It was miraculous enough that a mortal mind could overcome a power like Mythal's, but indomitable focus and healthy dose of stubbornness could not make up the fragility of body. All elves of this age were like her; small, slight things.   
"Why do you fear death?", Elgar'nan asked. "It is not a frightening thing. Your spirit will roam through the Beyond, freed from the trappings and limitations of your mortal shell. I will shelter Mythal's soul, and your sacrifice will be respected. Given enough time, you might be able to weave yourself a new form of shadows and stars, walk the winding paths and return to the living. No mortal has done it before, and of gods only Falon'Din, but I wouldn't put it past you."  
"I didn't expect you to hold such a high opinion of my talents.", Ellana replied.  
Elgar'nan considered her, brushing a tendril of magic against her.  
"There is a desire in your mind, an old want, surfacing in the face of death. You want something so badly that you feel anger for being denied it. It's not the People, it's something other, a heart's desire."  
"You are right.", she admitted, leaning against the back of her chair.  
"What do you want, then?", Elgar'nan asked.  
"I want a child.", Ellana told him with startling honesty. Her posture was sure and confident, as she looked at Elgar'nan and continued: "I want a child I can keep, a daughter who will not be taken away from me like your sons or my Enethriel."  
"And you ask me?", Elgar'nan was surprised, to put it mildly, but he found her courage rather thrilling. Carrying Mythal or no, women did not usually walk to her brazenly and demand sex. Most people were too frightened to say _anything_ to him in case they incurred his wrath and got burnt to death. It had been known to happen.  
"You were an excellent father.", Ellana said calmly, taking a sip of wine. "You are selfish enough to protect your own, and you would not ever agree to sacrifice those you loved on the altar of duty. I would not worry what happens after I die."  
"I do find your proposition interesting.", Elgar'nan noted. The angles of her face were beautiful and he could not help but admire the fact she _dared_. " But I thought you would ask Fen'Harel."  
"It is one thing to love a man who runs away twice in the name of duty, because it hurts only me, but entirely another to even consider subjecting somebody else to depend on his changing moods. Fen'Harel is not ready.", Ellana replied firmly.   
"Are you not going to lure me with promises of power? Talk about how joining with you would strengthen my magic and allow me to gather enough power to open my orb?", Elgar'nan asked, raising his eyebrows.  
"Of course not.", she sniffed. "I know my own value as well as you know the benefits of the act. The Dalish do not lure. We simply offer, and you can either agree or decline. It is our way."  
"Your way sounds horribly boring.", Elgar'nan shook his head. "Luring can be great fun, although I have to admit it is refreshing you don't try the old line about immense power. Desire demons keep repeating it, and I'm simply not interested. But you, dearest, are an interesting puzzle. You blush like a dawn for the simplest of invitations, yet you have to courage to walk here and make demands. I never liked meek women."  
"Mythal was not meek by any description.", she chuckled.  
"No, she wasn't.", Elgar'nan nodded, smiling. He made up his mind, and stood up, extending his hand. "Come, then."

 

  
Ellana's eyes were dark as she took the hand he offered. She stood on her toes, and kissed him tentatively. Elgar'nan made a agreeing sound, and then he suddenly invoked his magic, slamming his power down against the tiles on the floor.  
"What are you doing?", Ellana screamed as she felt herself shooting upwards, her feet off the ground.   
"Gravity is entirely overrated.", Elgar'nan grinned, floating in the air. "You should have seen your face!"  
The whole discussion had left her feeling raw, she had been startled badly, and now she was hanging in the air almost six meters above the ground. She had a sneaky feeling that he might be planning to drop her in that pool of water, and it would be too much. Evil bastard. 

So she bit his nose just to spite him, while cursing his name in elvish, borrowing ideas from the Dalish curses about Dread Wolf. It was childish, but she didn't care. Instead of retaliating, Elgar'nan started to laugh. His eyes twinkled with laughter and he smacked a kiss on the tip of her nose. It was wet and noisy and not what one would ever expect from a god of vengeance. Seeing her the look on her face, he laughed even more, and his hair was tousled and he looked happy. Ellana was still annoyed, so she rolled him under her, and kissed him properly to shut him up. Although he did have lovely laugh, and he was beautiful. 

Their magic changed directions that moment. The red and blue stopped clashing, and they flowed together, making the deepest and prettiest purple she had ever seen. It tingled on her skin much like Veil at it's thinnest, but better. She had endured for so long, and she wanted it to end. Ellana reveled selfishly in _not thinking_ , for once, when he kissed him back, the sensation new and familiar at the same time. His teasing touch and magic he weaved effortlessly made her giggle at first, and she tried her hand too, earning happy, pleased sounds. The giggles and laughter turned into gasps, later.

 ---

Divine Victoria, formerly known as Cassandra Pentaghast, felt pity. She remembered Dorian being proud as a peacock, making sarcastic jokes on his own expense. But this man was ragged, his eyes little too wild and frightened. She had never expected him to appear in Gwaren Chantry, begging Templars to take him to Divine and smite him if he tried to flee. Leliana's reports had mentioned odd symbol on his chest, and four situations where he had suddenly started acting against his own will, trying to flee while screaming for Templars to stop him. Holy smite had broken the spell, whatever it had been. The templars had been adamant against letting Cassandra meet him in private, but she would not be a prisoner in gilded cage ever again. She was more than capable to take down one unarmed mage if she had to.  
"What has happened to you?", Cassandra asked.   
"Elves.", Dorian said. "Their gods have returned, and I am slave to one of them."  
"Gods? There are more of them?"  
"We've been betrayed. Solas calls himself Fen'Harel, and Inquisitor is with him. I accidentally found the third one from Tevinter, and Elgar'nan enslaved me.", Dorian told her. "He broke Black Divine's throne to get his orb back. They have three orbs, and Corypheus needed only one to create the Breach. Elgar'nan said this world will burn."  
"Solas is one of them? I thought his shock over Inquisitor's fate was genuine!", Cassandra cursed and stood up, opening the door and shouting to guards:  
"Get me Leliana, Cullen and Josephine this instant!"

 

It took time to put all pieces of a puzzle together, but two weeks later Leliana presented them with a map. Normally Cassandra would have smiled at Leliana's sense of style, which had dictated using elven chess pieces to mark the movements, but there was little joy to be found in the news she bore.  
"The hunter pieces mark all locations I have managed to confirm." Leliana said, gesturing at her map. Tevinter was filled with little hunters brandishing their bows, but there were over dozen pieces littered over Ferelden, more in western Orlais. The total amount was over a hundred. "The story is much the same everywhere. A group of elves in distress; whether it was bandits, Tevinter mages or Orlesian humans. Something happened, and there were no survivors or eyewitnesses. The dead found afterwards were always human. If elves fell, their bodies were taken away. It matches the story Dorian told us about Mythal attacking magister Ahriman at Quarinus."  
She took halla figures in her hand, and placed them in major cities of southern Thedas.  
"We don't have reliable numbers for alienage populations in Orlais and Ferelden, but King Alistair has informed that Denerim alienage is practically empty and his former subjects have marched south. The situation is much the same in every major city; only numbers of those remaining differ. All alienages which used to have a strong, influential hahren have become empty while those who didn't place much faith in the old ways, retain more of the population. Halamshiral nobles complain about missing servants; one third of the houses belonging to elves have been deserted. My elven agents are reluctant to speak about it, but they all admitted they dreamed about a mother calling them to come home. The date fits with the beginning of elven movement, so I suspect magic at work."  
"Has there been violence against humans? Any news of preparing for war?", Cullen asked.  
"No.", Leliana shook her head. "In Orlais, elves simply disappear. In Ferelden, they walk, but those we can track seem to head towards Brecilian Forest, just like Dorian told us. His story about elves gathering there has been confirmed by multiple sources. Elven population has been growing at alarming rate, almost doubling since their dream, and now it's nearing ten thousand. Orzammar has a bit over ten thousand dwarves, which gives you an idea of the scale I'm talking about. My agents confirm the identities of the Inquisitor, Solas and a third elf called Elgar'nan. Almost every influential elf mentioned in my archives is there; my spies have listed names of Grand Enchanter Fiona, Hero of Ferelden and Hawke's former associate Merrill. They are not preparing for war, or if they are, my agents have seen no sight of it. They are not settling either. The Dalish clans have been there over a year now, but they still live in aravels and tents. It's like.. They are waiting for something."  
"What of the Inquisitor? Could we negotiate with her, to ask what she is up to?", Josephine asked worriedly.   
"It might be difficult for the Chantry, because she is openly revered as a goddess. The elves call her Mythal, their Mother, their Great Protector.", Dorian said. "She has a group of priests who enact her will; I think the city elf who helped me to escape was one of them. She told me proudly that she used to be a slave, but now she is Mythal's chosen weapon. It didn't sound nice."  
"If we do nothing, it will be an Exalted March all over again. And I don't know that the Inquisitor will do if she is pushed. She was always.. most devout to her people.", Cassandra said, leaning her hands against the table.  
"We could capture Briala and use her as a leverage.", Leliana suggested. "Inquisitor had personal dealings with her; she admitted it when she placed Briala in power behind Gaspard."  
"I would not anger a group of people who hold three orbs of Destruction, and the anchor which closed the Breach.", Dorian said quickly. "You could talk to her, I think. She recognized me, and defended me when Elgar'nan demanded her step aside. But I will not go back. Ever."  
"As much as I dislike this game of cloaks and daggers, I fear we must do both. Leliana, you will position your people to follow Briala's movements. Josephine will hire the Chargers and prepare to travel to Brecilian Forest. I don't think the elves will take kindly if I send templars or Chantry mothers. Your goal, Josephine, is to find out what the Inquisitor's plans are, whether she and her associates can be reasoned with, and if everything else fails, how we can stop them.", Cassandra commanded. "You are dismissed."

 

 


	12. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elgar'nan has visitors in his temple. He gives romantic advice to Fen'Harel. With a punch.
> 
> It actually works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this chapter: Assassin's Creed III main theme, wall of sound-version. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGtDJheBlTA

The water in the pool was cool against her heated skin. Purple magic pulsed like living being, and with each beat, the glow vanished inside her skin. The sensation was oddly invigorating. It was not the icy pain of Mythal's orb, neither the searing flame of Elgar'nan's touch but a perfect blend which made her feel stronger.  
"Was it always like this?", she asked Elgar'nan, who was stark naked and floating on his back. He, too, was wreathed in purple magic.  
"You blush for most unexpected reasons.", Elgar'nan replied lazily. "Mythal's composure was much harder to crack."  
"I meant magic, not the.. things.", Ellana said indignantly.   
" _Things?_ ", Elgar'nan repeated, his voice deeply amused. "Is that the word used in this age?"  
"Of course not! It's just that the Dalish do not play with magic.", she said reproachfully. "Or have sex, if they are mages. Except in ritual which occurs every ten years to beget mage children."  
He rolled his eyes.  
"What a wasted world you have. But to answer your original question, yes. Mythal and I differ from the others in many ways. The other elves were spirits who became flesh, but we were more like.. manifestations of primal forces. I don't mean the elements, but the actual life itself. The polar opposites. Male and female, justice and vengeance, sun and moon. The list goes on and on. I always thought her as a gift from my mother. Like all mothers, she knew that our love would wax and wane like feelings do, and she created us so that we could never separate permanently. I remember a thousand-year-period when I was rather busy with Andruil and Mythal was having an affair with female durgen'len chieftain. That beard was absolutely repulsive."  
"The laughing lady of the skies?", Ellana asked, her eyes wide.  
"I don't know. Never bothered to pay much attention.", Elgar'nan shrugged. "This magic, Creator force, is something which could not be called up with anyone else. And believe me, Andruil tried. It makes both of us stronger than we could be otherwise, and with proper catalyst like our sons were, we can do things which are beyond the reach of the pantheon. But it's also a weakness. Too long apart, and the nasty side effects start to appear. I start killing things, and you begin to die."  
"Elgar'nan, you can't tell me that the reason why the orb has been draining me or why Mythal's human hosts kept dying before their time is because I haven't had sex with you. That's a preposterous lie.", Ellana said fiercely.  
"Have you looked in the mirror lately? You are a lot less bony than when we started.", Elgar'nan grinned. "Of course, my confectioner's little cakes are far superior to Dalish diet, but still, it is a major improvement."  
Ellana stared at her reflection in the pool, not wanting to believe what she saw. Elgar'nan waded behind her, and slid his hands along the sides of her body.   
"See what I meant?", he asked. "I can no longer count your ribs simply by running my palms over them. It is a good thing, since I was slightly worried I might get bruised without the gravity spell."  
"Elgar'nan.", her voice was a warning. "One does not play with major forces of reality just because--"  
"It is true.", he said smoothly, cupping her breast in his hand and brushing the nipple with his fingers. "I though you wanted honesty, dearest. Besides, it was more fun that way."   
Leaning against his touch, she closed her eyes and emitted a resigned sigh.  
"I agree."  
"It wasn't so difficult, was it? There are more things in life than stern dedication to duty. Life, like magic, should be a song of joy.", Elgar'nan kissed her neck.   
"My lord.", the leader of Elgar'nan's sentinels, Senris' voice spoke behind them. Ellana froze motionless like a statue except for a scarlet blush rising on her face.   
"Can't you see I'm busy? Go away.", Elgar'nan ordered. He quite liked the way her body pressed against him. To hide from Senris, probably, but Elgar'nan could feel the possibilities _stirring_.  
"It's morning already, my lord. The Dread Wolf came here at the brink of dawn, asking for audience. He wishes to speak with you about your orb."  
"What do you say, dearest?", Elgar'nan bent to bite the tip of her ear. "Will we grant admission to Dread Wolf?"  
"Where are my clothes?", Ellana asked, her voice anxious. "  
"I have no idea.", Elgar'nan shrugged. "Senris! Bring my lady something to wear. Tell the confectioner I'll have breakfast in the solar. Fen'Harel can wait for me there."

 

 

 

Fen'Harel didn't have to pace around the solar for long before Elgar'nan appeared, wearing a dressing gown. Being Elgar'nan, his dressing gown was finer than anything Fen'Harel owned. The elder god was on good mood, and there was a faint glow of magic in the air around him.  
"I didn't expect you to arrive so soon.", Fen'Harel greeted him.  
"I didn't go to sleep at all, that's why.", Elgar'nan said cheerily. "I think I'm on edge of breakthrough, actually. A bit more practice, and I'll be able to open my orb."  
"That is a good thing.", Fen'Harel agreed.  
"I read a new book yesterday. It's called "The Touch of Divine", by lord Arvid Trevelyan.", Elgar'nan announced as he gathered food on his plate and gestured Fen'Harel to do the same. "The smutty parts are excellent, but I don't quite understand why the reviews describe it as a tragic romance. The poet loses the love of his life because she devotes herself to Maker, and he seems to think it was awful thing to do."  
The name was familiar to Fen'Harel. It was the man who had ridden a race against Bog Unicorn, and as a favor, Ellana had sent him to Cassandra's door, armed with a book of poetry.  
"I'm sorry to hear that.", Fen'Harel said. "I knew Cassandra before she became Divine. She was an extraordinary woman in many ways. Her faith was true, and she was able to admit her mistakes. She would have seen the title of Divine as her duty, and could not choose otherwise."  
"I disagree.", Elgar'nan answered, leaning against the back of his chair. "I loved my Mythal for a very long time, but duty had nothing to do with it. It is often easier just to walk away and claim one must do it. Loneliness is easy, since it requires no understanding or no compromises. The shemlen idea of love is so very narrow. Meet someone, marry, and have babies exclusively with the one you have chosen, otherwise it isn't real. What about those who share one soul, like Falon'Din and Dirthamen?Is their bond not real? Or my shemlen slave, who yearned for acceptance, not understanding the man whose appreciation he sorely needed was the one he saw in his mirror? The Divine could have kept the poet by her side, even in secret if she had to. It was the Divine who forced herself to give him up, not the people believing in Maker. If their Andraste could have two husbands, why couldn't her Divine have even one lover?"  
"I didn't take you for a scholar of religion, Elgar'nan.", Fen'Harel said, uncomfortable with the direction their discussion was taking. The Eldest of the Sun had an agenda, and Fen'Harel didn't like it.  
"Your time in this blighted world has changed you, Fen'Harel. You used to be proud and full of fire. Now you are like an old man, too frightened to do anything in case it goes wrong, and you shave your head like a priest." Elgar'nan told him. "I don't like what you have become."  
"You are not only one who thinks so.", Fen'Harel said sharply.  
"But in any rate, it was interesting to read something else than Tethras novel. The courting chapters were good.", Elgar'nan said. "But still, I'm curious about the Divine. She fulfills her greater calling and gets to be the most beloved servant of her god. It seems like a worthy cause, and she should be happy. Why the book ends with her looking from the Grand Cathedral balcony as the poet rides away, heartbroken? Fen'Harel, do you have insight on this? You used to be a good book critic."  
Fen'Harel sighed, taking a little Orlesian cake from the tray.  
"Maybe she repents what she did, and hopes she could make a different choice this time, but doesn't know how."   
"Of course.", Elgar'nan huffed. "This world is beyond repair. Even shemlen smut is depressing. But the shemlen elf called Shianni reports that we have around fifteen thousand elves now. The autumn is already on us, and feeding all these people will be impossible once winter comes. We cannot wait forever before putting things in motion. It's been three months since you summoned them. If they will not come, they can stay and suffer the consequences."  
"I think I agree.", Fen'Harel said. "I don't relish the thought what will happen to rest of the People, but we cannot save everyone."  
"It is decided, then.", Elgar'nan leaned back and chose a cake topped with chocolate cream. "I have already spoken about this with Ellana. Her allies can arrange access to site, and those Antivan assassins can infiltrate the palace staff. Her prophet Zevran, _a delightful_ man, told me that the shemlen emperor Gaspard is hosting a ball to commemorate the Exalted March on the Dales in two week's time in Winter Palace."  
"I have heard of it.", Fen'Harel nodded. "Gaspard has been busy severing the ties between him and elves of Orlais, and this event is meant to symbolize his victory over marquise Briala. She, of course, has been invited."  
"We could not have asked a better setting for our return.", Elgar'nan said, yawning. "But details need to be discussed between three of us, and I am tired. Can you do me a favor, Fen'Harel?"  
"It depends.", Fen'Harel said lightly.   
"You can have a box of cakes if you escort Ellana home. I prefer if she doesn't get murdered again on her way home, and sending sentinels with her is not a good idea. You know what they can be like. Very territorial people, always arguing or fighting against other factions, these priests. I'm rather fond of my Senris, and good sentinels are impossible to find these days. If Abelas murders you, it is not so bad." 

Elgar'nan quite enjoyed the moment he saw understanding dawning on Fen'Harel. The part he didn't enjoy was when a low growl rose from man's throat, and he slammed Elgar'nan against the wall.  
"What happened to your duty, pup?", Elgar'nan asked. "It was a rather cold choice, I think."  
"Don't say a a word.", Fen'Harel snarled, the power cracking in the air around him.  
"Someone has to.", Elgar'nan replied, gathering his magic. "After you walked away weeks ago, your lover came to me. She told me a truth and asked for a boon. Both of those cost her dear. I do not love her, but I admire her courage. She is one of the bravest spirits I've encountered."  
"She would be.", Fen'Harel said, his eyes cold. "But I do not share. She is not your Mythal."  
"You can't have it both ways, pup. You can't run away from love and keep it.", Elgar'nan said forcefully. "Stop being an idiot, Fen'Harel. Your lover is a mortal holding a power of god. I've done what I can to strengthen her, but her days are numbered. After she is gone, I will have my Mythal back, but you will howl alone in the Beyond, knowing the bitterest of regrets."  
Advancing on Fen'Harel, Elgar'nan continued:  
"Let me tell you something about regret, boy. You don't know the depth of it before you have killed your own son. The son I loved, whom I cherished above all else, and still he did the unspeakable thing. Mythal was made for me. We were the two parts of the same soul. I felt the moment of her death, because the time itself wept with me, and there was no comfort to be found. All we had built, all we had dreamed, crashed and died in mere moments. Still it did not help my agony. I am nothing but a severed hand laying too far from the body it belongs, and I would weep if I could, but my sorrow is too deep for that. I want my world back. My Mythal back, and my sons. I want the time of innocence back, the days when the world was young and we were happy.", he shouted, sending a blast of fire against Fen'Harel. The pup raised his barriers just in time, keeping the flames at bay.  
"If it's duty what you want, Fen'Harel, do you know where it will lead you? To repeat the very cycle which brought forth my Mythal's death! Andruil thought it was her duty to fight Forgotten Ones. She was beside herself with joy when she thought she had found a weapon which would change the course of war. My Dirthamen thought it was his mission to find the secrets of the world. Falon'Din was his brother's mirror, never sparing any thought on what he could be as himself. You know the consequences of your duty all too well. Look where it got us all! It was never the way of elvhen to be blind to shades of grey. The shemlen like to put their world in neat boxes, labeled with simple concepts like duty, vengeance, love, rebellion. We, of all People, should know it is not so.", Elgar'nan ripped Fen'Harel's shields with Creator Force, slamming his fist into other man's stomach. It robbed Fen'Harel's air, and he fell on his knees, and Elgar'nan punched him on the chin.  
"Consider this a lesson from your Father, pup.", he said, staring at Fen'Harel. "Stop being an idiot, and start acting like an elvhen. I'm fed up with your self-pity."  
Elgar'nan walked away, his dressing gown flowing stylishly around him. The effect was perfect. He was rather surprised at his self-control; he had not beaten the boy into bloody pulp or killed him. Three thousand years in a box had made wonders to his self-control. Not that Elgar'nan would ever admit it to anyone. Ellana would undoubtedly thank him for later, and Elgar'nan much preferred his lovers happy. Weepy ladies were no fun.

 

Fen'Harel didn't know what to think of Elgar'nan's sudden outburst. He remember the Eldest of the Sun from the days of Elvhenan, of course, but he had been mostly the one god everyone avoided in case they invoked his wrath. He had argued Fen'Harel's suggestions, sending him flying against the wall more than once during the council meetings, and Fen'Harel had never understood what Mythal saw in him. The cutting words Fen'Harel had just received were not something he would ever have expected to hear from Elgar'nan, of all people. Maybe there was another side of him, a side whom Mythal had known and Ellana remembered, because Fen'Harel's vhenan had never shown any fear towards Elgar'nan, speaking warmly of the man even before they met. Maybe he was a passionate man who had loved deeply, still did, and-- Fen'Harel didn't want to think of it. He was used to snarky Elgar'nan who read smutty novels and tormented his fellow elves with his arrogant actions. It was an uncomfortable thought to think there would be likable features in someone whom he had almost hated for a long time. 

Ellana was waiting for him at the eluvian. Her hair was dripping wet, and she was dressed in ancient silk robe of fiery red which didn't suit her coloring at all. Fen'Harel could have sworn he had once seen it on Andruil.   
"What happened to you?", she asked, her voice worried. "Your face is bruised."  
"A disagreement on romantic literature.", Fen'Harel said, taking her arm. "What happened to you?"  
"Elgar'nan dropped me in the pool.", she said dryly. "When we were with Inquisition, I thought the pool in the temple of Dirthamen and all that water in Mythal's temple were for spiritual reasons, being closer to nature or something. Elgar'nan uses his for swimming. I may never get over it."  
He chuckled and opened the eluvian to pass through. Elgar'nan's sentinels stood on guard, their faces impassive.

 

They had walked in the Crossroads for some time, when Ellana broke the silence.  
"Why you don't ask? I know you must have questions."  
Fen'Harel shook his head, a wistful smile on his lips.  
"I think we were wiser in the beginning than we have been in the end, vhenan. When you danced with me in Halamshiral, we spoke of this. You said you never asked, because you knew I couldn't answer. It was enough for us, then, share what we could have. We lost the sight of that somewhere along the way."  
Ellana stopped, looking at him.  
"Solas.", she said, slipping to his old name. "I'm.. I'm so sorry. For everything."  
"I am sorry too.", he said. He put his arms around her, holding her in the fading light of the Crossroads.  
"Do you think we could go back to what we had?", Fen'Harel asked, his voice thick with emotion. "When things were simple, and we just loved, despite everything? We were happy, then. It feels like such a simple, pure thing now."  
"I thought you didn't want that.", she said, her words choking in her throat. "I didn't want the bond, the griffon, all that circus. It never felt right. I just wanted you, like you were before Mythal. I miss sleeping with you under the stars and our journeys in the Fade."  
"When Mythal took you, Cole sensed your hurt. I ran back to you, but I wasn't fast enough. The glade was empty, and even the spirits were scattered away.", Fen'Harel said. "I didn't know what had happened to you. I found just a pile of ashes, still warm. I though they were yours."  
"Mythal told me you would be killed for locking the Creators away if she wasn't there to calm Elgar'nan.", Ellana whispered against the fabric of his shirt. "I didn't want you to die."  
They clung to each other, silent in their shared pain for a long time. He still wore the same old sweater, natural white fabric which had softened with a hundred washes and years of use. The scent of spindleweed was familiar, unchanged. Something yet remained.  
She lifted up her face first, and he bent down to kiss her. Her face was wet with tears, but she could taste the salt on his lips, too. The mirrors around them were silent, most of them dark or broken, but some still reflecting the wordless moment of their reconciliation. 


	13. Father's rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas lays down the law.

If some of Mythal's sentinels had thought her liaison with Fen'Harel was bad, they all agreed that rebound was far worse. The whole mess started on the day Melana was in charge. Abelas was in the Dalish Camp, using his position as High Keeper to argue the necessity of following Mythal's plan for the mothers.  
After Mythal's wedding, Kallian had been offered a chance to follow the sentinels in their daily tasks. It was an addition to her training schedule, and Kallian wasn't quite sure why she wanted this, but it felt right in a way she could not describe. It was love, but she didn't love Mythal like she loved Shianni or her father. It was trust, but also fear, and respect, and awe. A need to be loyal, a wish to serve. Many things which could not be put into proper words. Elvish probably had a right word for it; they seemed to have word for everything, but Kallian had been too busy learning how to kill things to pay attention to linguistics.  
Melana was drilling Kallian in memory exercises - look around for three breaths, close your eyes and give positions of every possible threat in the order of importance - when Kallian saw group of nine sentinels in matching black armors marching towards their watch point.  
"Senris.", Melana said, not bothering to hide her dislike. "Look alert. Stay silent and do not get provoked by anything they might say. They are Elgar'nan's. A mad lot with a fondness for killing things."

Kallian waited, feeling tense and wishing she had her daggers. But no. Abelas had this bright idea of diversifying. If she was going to be Mythal's duelist, she could not count on being able to choose her weapons. The argument was good, but Kallian still didn't like it. They had made her to test a lot of different weapons, and keep the one she had been worst at. So Kallian had ended up with a spiked club, which looked ridiculous and felt even worse. She found herself frequently missing a two-handed Avvar maul which had been her second-worst.  
The guy called Senris had a blue vallaslin on his face, and a smirk under it.  
"Andaran atishan, _guardian_.", he greeted Melana. "You seem to have misplaced something again, and to save you from yet another failure, we decided to return it."  
"We have not failed our duty, Senris.", Melana spat.  
"This time it is not your patron, or your well, but a smaller thing.", Senris said, gesturing to his sentinels who spread to form a half-circle around him, shielding Kallian and Melana from view.  
There had been few curious elves walking along the path who had stopped to see what was happening. Kallian felt hairs on her neck rising. Melana kept her cool.  
"We found these from the sacred pool of our temple this morning.", Senris told and threw something towards Kallian. She caught it automatically, even with holding that stupid club on her left hand. It took a moment, however, to understand what she had in her grasp. Women's underpants, carefully washed, dried and pressed flat.  
"Sadly, the dress was beyond repair. One would expect that Mythal's underwear would not look so shabby.", Senris quipped and turned around, his business clearly concluded. The sentinels moved into march formation again. Although none of them spoke, a few of them were grinning openly.  
Melana was gritting her teeth so hard Kallian could hear it. Not knowing what to do with them, she put Mythal's underpants in her pocket.

It was hard to follow the angry discussion between sentinels at lunch, but the same words were repeated often enough that Kallian got the general idea. Mythal's sentinels had some kind of rivalry going on with Elgar'nan's people. The problem with pants was not how they had ended up in Elgar'nan's holy pool - Kallian thought _that_ was a mystery worth solving - but the fact his sentinels had described the perfectly utilitarian and ordinary piece of clothing as shabby. For Mythal's priests, it was a serious accusation suggesting they were doing sub-par job taking care of their goddess. Mentioning Mythal's murder and the loss of Well of Sorrows had been rather low blows, in Kallian's opinion.  
The talk went on for some time. Then one of them, Eliel, pointed at Kallian and said something she didn't understand. Others made agreeing noises, and Melana nodded, standing up.  
"It has been decided.", Melana told her. "You will go to shemlen city of Denerim and purchase clothing which makes Elgar'nan's lot weep for beauty when they fish it from their holy pool."  
"I'm not sure if Denerim has anything like that.", Kallian said anxiously. "The market square was mostly filled with dwarven merchants and mud."  
"You will find what we need.", Melana said resolutely. "We have coin for you."  
She vanished into storage room for a moment and returned with a heavy purse, handing it to Kallian. Kallian felt the weight of it, and peeked inside.  
"What! You have jewels here! And hundreds of gold pieces!"  
"It's shemlen money, taken from those who tried to desecrate our temple during the long years of our slumber.", Melana shrugged. "It has no use except this."  
  
Although Kallian had lived in Denerim alienage for twenty years, she had no idea of where to start looking. Luckily, somebody else had a suggestion.  
"I know just the place!", Merrill chirped happily. "My friend Isabela told me all about it! All the shady ladies go there."  
"I think it was not the look we were aiming for..", Kallian said.  
"If you need clothing to make people weep, Hidden Pearl is the place to go. Isabela said that Queen Anora sends her handmaiden there, but the clothes the maid purchases are too wide for elven hips, so everyone knows they are for the queen.", Merrill explained eagerly. "Can I come with you? I know the passwords to get in and everything, and I've always wondered if there are many kinds of shady ladies. The ones in Blooming Rose weren't shadowy at all, and I was quite disappointed. Maybe the ones in Denerim are better."  
Kallian was not sure if it was a good idea, but she nodded. A second opinion always helped when one was shopping.  
"Let's go, then. I'll grab something to eat on the road."

 ---

Abelas' day was turning from bad to worse. Spending whole morning arguing the necessity of removing the Dalish mothers into parallel world through eluvians was not his favorite way to spend a day. It was something which had to be done. Ellana had already been there yesterday, telling them that now it was time to turn the tide and regain the immortality. If the babies were born on another side of the Veil, they would have magic and the life span of those born before Silence. Or Great Betrayal, like the Dalish still called it. The Dalish mothers were willing to do that, since they all were Keepers or Firsts sworn to preserve what had been lost. Their problem was their assigned guide and leader. Fen'Harel was the one tied to the Fade, and the Dalish knew it. Still, it was impossible to make the Dalish accept it after they had seen Mythal giving up on him, or the other way round. The identity of guilty party largely depended on the person telling the story. At this rate, all those children would be old enough to walk before a single Dalish agreed to follow Fen'Harel.

Ellana had begged off at that point of the argument, claiming that she had agreed to have a practice round for the ritual required to unlock Elgar'nan's orb. But that had been yesterday, now the sun was past the highest point, and Abelas had not seen a sign of her.  
"Abelas?", Shianni came running to him. "We have a problem. The border patrol sent a message; there is a fancy shem delegation outside the forest. They carry the Chantry standards and claim they have come to negotiate in the name of Divine Victoria. What will we do?"  
"If we turn them away, it's like Red Crossing all over again.", Mahariel said grimly. "The shemlen bastards will use any excuse to march on us."  
"I already tried to inform the Creators, but none of them are here. Fen'Harel stole a bag of plums from the kitchens and sneaked off. One of the guards said he saw Fen'Harel heading towards the Witherfang ruins. The sentinels had no idea of Mythal's whereabouts, and I don't know if asking Elgar'nan to deal with shem delegation is a good idea. Senris said that Elgar'nan is sleeping, and he said I might become a head shorter if I disturbed Elgar'nan's rest.", Shianni said, wringing her hands.  
"Forget Elgar'nan.", Abelas replied. He could feel the headache coming; this was not a good day. "Send Fiona to talk with the shemlen and delay them. She is experienced with the Chantry. Warden, you will show me these ruins."

 

The ruins were full of furry, poisonous spiders. Abelas was covered in spider ichors and blood by the time he and Mahariel got to lower level.  
"This is just as bad as the last time I was here.", Warden said angrily, kicking a corpse down the stairs. "Do you think Fen'Harel could be after an arcane warrior? There is one inside a glass vial in the chamber on right. Or at least it was there during the Blight."  
"Fen'Harel was the one who started calling our discipline Ghilan'him Banal'vhen, the path that leads astray.", Abelas said dryly, turning towards the stairs leading to right without a second thought. "He had a considerable talent for mockery. I can feel a set of wards near."

Fen'Harel was sleeping in the floor of a ruined library, his back turned towards the stairs. As Abelas walked closer, he saw a smaller form between Fen'Harel and the wall. His errant da'len was sleeping there, holding a glass vial in her hands. She didn't have a staff, or an armor, and Abelas was quite sure that the red robe embroider with extravagant golden thread was not hers either. He didn't want to know how she had gotten past the spiders, being so inadequately prepared to face the dangers old ruins held. Annoyed, Abelas found a stone from the floor and kicked it against the wards.  
"I suddenly find myself lucky not being able to have children.", Mahariel remarked.  
Abelas gave her a dark look and crossed his arms as Fen'Harel stirred.

 

\--

”Since it has been proved that you have started a relationship with my daughter again, it is my pleasure to inform you about new ground rules regulating your behavior, Fen’Harel.”, Abelas said. The man actually smiled as he pushed stack of papers in front of Fen’Harel. The three were sitting around the table in Abelas' house.  
“What kind of ground rules?”, Fen’Harel asked suspiciously.  
“Please explain your paramour, da’len.”, Abelas said.  
Ellana cleared her throat and said:  
“According to prenuptial agreement we both signed and Mythal’s judgement on very similar case of Savren versus Ilona, our failure to complete the bonding ceremony has apparently made me a minor in the eyes of Elvhenan law. Which means my father, as a head of my House, holds the legal authority over my personal life and affairs until I reach adulthood. Which, in Elvhenan law, is 450 years.”  
“What?”, Fen’Harel exclaimed. “That’s just.. The modern elves don’t even live that long! Abelas, you can’t use Elvhenan law! It is simply not applicable in case like this!”  
“You are wrong, Fen’Harel. You were subject under Elvhenan law, were you not?“  
“Yes, the Dreamer clauses.”, Fen’Harel said warily. It was something he had suggested to Mythal soon after he had been raised to pantheon, a way to ensure there would be consequences for grave offences even for those who held the highest places in their society.  
“You invoked the gift of Dreamer in my da’len. You trained her, as her hahren.”, Abelas said smoothly. “Which means that the paragraph three, subsection four applies. I'll quote to you: an individual who has a talent of Dreaming and receives training to sufficiently use this talent to benefit Elvhenan, is automatically awarded the status of Dreamer Mage of Elvhenan, with all privileges and duties as implied in the law, including the citizenship if she doesn't have it."  
"Yes, but Elvhenan did not have double citizenship. Ellana is Dalish.", Fen'Harel pointed out.  
" _Was_ Dalish.", Abelas corrected. "You removed her vallaslin. That reminds me.."  
Abelas took the papers back and turned a few pages before taking a quill and adding a line of writing. He had very nice handwriting, like a scribe. Temple-bred, Fen'Harel thought bitterly.  
"Now. I added a line about all attempts to change her status being forbidden.", Abelas said. "I allow respectful courtship in public areas, and you are allowed to visit her in my house. But there will be absolutely no talk or attempts of bonding or similar rituals of different cultures, no sneaking away to sleep in ruins or other dangerous places without a military escort and you will not engage her in any form of sexual activity which could lead to procreation. You will treat her with courtesy and respect, and be mindful of her feelings. If you want to break off your relationship with her again, you will inform me in writing at least four weeks in advance, and go through relationship counselling by Mythal's priest - the nature of counselling and the identity of priest chosen by me - , before you are allowed to inform Ellana. "  
"Any breaches of contract will be judged by Elgar'nan, since Mythal has agreed to give up her right to judgement in this case. Elgar'nan found the prospect hilarious, so I would advise to avoid such situation.", Abelas finished in deadpan voice. "Do either of you have any questions?"  
"I do.", Fen'Harel said, looking at Ellana. "Vhenan, are you going to let him away with this nonsense?"  
"I can't very well judge the People by Mythal's laws if I don't obey them myself.", Ellana spread her arms in helpless gesture. "It would not be right. We already signed those papers, and father's terms are not unreasonable."  
Abelas looked pleased and more than a bit proud.  
"Father has told me very.. specifically.. what he thinks about the previous history of our relationship, and his arguments were sound. Considering the other options he presented to me, I think this is for the best."  
"Exactly.", Abelas said.  
"Other options being what?"  
"I'd rather not say.", Ellana replied reluctantly. "The Dalish are giving him savage ideas. Especially for the relationship counselling."  
  
 

\--  
  
 

Although Fiona had served Mythal for over a year now, she didn't feel very comfortable as she stood in front of the Creators in emptied tavern. She had been summoned to tell what she knew of the Chantry delegation.  
"Begin.", Mythal gestured.  
"I went out to meet the delegation like Abelas asked me to. They have been sent by Divine Victoria personally. Their leader is lady Montilyet, and she is accompanied by Bull's Chargers. Josephine requested you or Solas by name. She says that Divine wishes to understand the situation better, and she would be happy to discuss her mission personally with any of you."  
"Did she have templars with her?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"None of her assistants wore the symbols of the order, but I think at least two of them were templars. I have seen enough them not to be misled by simple deceptions.", Fiona replied. "What worries me that she seemed too.. She didn't even try to enter the forest like people normally do. If I visited someone who lived in a forest, I would not treat the edge of trees like a foreign border. I think they know more of us than they let on."  
Mythal's eyes were hard.  
"Thank you, Fiona. Please return to lady Montilyet and tell her that one of us will come to meet her next morning."

 

As the tavern door closed, Fen'Harel was first to speak.  
"It was expected that Leliana would slip some of her spies in our midst, but Josephine's arrival has all but confirmed it.", Fen'Harel said. "It means we have to deal with them while convincing the Chantry of our innocence. Our location is vulnerable, and too well known."  
"I agree.", Ellana nodded. "After Elgar'nan's orb has been opened, we must move quickly. The camp here must be empty and forsaken when the shemlen forces arrive to retaliate. We have to start moving our people to Arlathan forest through Eluvian as soon as possible. The Dalish first, since they can fight."  
"This place should not be forsaken too early because it will raise suspicions. Leading the People to safety will fall to you, Fen'Harel, while we are gone to enact the ritual.", Elgar'nan commanded. "We will join you in Arlathan, but the People must wait for us there."  
"Gone where? I thought you were going to open your orb in the temple.", Ellana asked, surprised.  
"I decided to change the venue. Opening my orb requires power, and it is easier to go where the prey waits instead of dragging them through eluvians to my current abode.", Elgar'nan said, crossing his legs lazily. "The shemlen emperor of Orlais will hold a ball in Winter Palace to commemorate the Exalted March on the Dales. Your Dalish inform me that the palace is built over the ruins of my central temple. I find it blasphemous."  
Abelas looked at the shelf filled with bottles and chose one, pouring a cup full. He handed the cup to Ellana, who accepted it, looking dazed. She drank a sip, and started to cough violently.  
"Golden Scythe 4:90 Black?", Senris murmured behind Elgar'nan's chair. "Really, Abelas?"  
Abelas paid no attention to black-armored sentinel, ignoring him completely.  
"Are you all right, vhenan?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"Yes, of course.", Ellana said, lifting the cup on her lips again. "I was merely surprised. But considering the ground of Halamshiral is soaked in elven blood and feelings of vengeance, it makes much sense magically. You can open the orb, and probably charge it as well."  
"Precisely, dearest.", Elgar'nan smiled. "I couldn't ask for a better stage for our return. The lives of Orlesian nobles are inevitable loss, but you weren't too fond of them anyway, were you?"  
Ellana shook her head.  
"I feel pity for the innocents who will suffer for our actions, but there is no other way to gain the power we need. Sometimes one must do regrettable things to achieve one's goal.", Fen'Harel said calmly.  
"We must deal with the spies, first.", Ellana reminded. "I don't want to find shemlen army waiting i Arlathan forest when our People arrive."  
"It's simple. You use your judgement to find who are guilty, and I kill them quietly in their sleep.", Elgar'nan shrugged.  
"With so many people here, it is a major undertaking.", Ellana said carefully. "It will take at least a week. I would have no time for playing diplomacy, even with my sentinels helping me. They are trained to weed out the liars."  
"I can deal with the shemlen delegation.", Elgar'nan promised.  
Fen'Harel and Ellana looked at each other.  
"Don't look like that!", Elgar'nan demanded, offended. "I can be diplomatic. If I want."  
"The problem, my sun", Ellana said carefully, "is just that. Usually you do not want. Josephine might be sweet and idealistic, but she is good at her job and experienced player of their Game. I think Fen'Harel should take care of this."  
"I'm not convinced he can pull it off.", Elgar'nan said. He was sulking. "He is boring and bald like an egg. Shemlen are frightened of admitting there is something else than their silent Maker. If they believe we are the pagan gods, they will lash out, and it will bring trouble. I think we should give them a magnificent charlatan, a lie too outrageous to believe. Humans would feel safe, and laugh at the naive faith of the Dalish."  
Fen'Harel considered Elgar'nan's words carefully.  
"I think you are right, brother.", he said.


	14. Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elves are slumming it. Chantry makes plans, their ambassadors wonder, Elgar'nan chooses and Fen'Harel is kept in the dark.

"This is the worst camp I have ever seen.", Ellana shook her head in desperation. "How is it possible, ma lath, that you have lived thousands of years and still you set up the da'len in the on the spot where sun will shine first! No, no, no!"  
"I thought they would be warmer.", Fen'Harel replied.  
"Maybe, but the children are _always_ kept in the shadows. If a shem robber or a templar archer spies the camp, you will not offer the most precious prey on the platter! Hunters are placed in the sun, so they will not get blinded by light, and the enemies will see that you are able to defend yourself. Never pick up a fight, if you can avoid it, because the Clan may suffer losses it can ill afford. Your cooking pits are pitiful, and the clothes.. I thought we had burnt all those rags people wore when they came to us!"  
"Shianni keeps everything which might be of use. She was going to use them as a cleaning rags, but luckily they only had time to cut a few. I think the cuts they did make, add flair to our performance.", Fen'Harel said, sounding smug. He raised his voice: "Children, you should roll a few times in the mud, and Shianni, you could pour a bit of beer over your clothes. Make it look and smell like you've passed out drunk last night. Cyrion, that sad look is perfect. Keep it."  
"You're slumming it, then?", Elgar'nan asked. He made sure he stayed upwind to a pigsty where a nug nursed it's young. The smell of shit caught so easily on silk.  
"Precisely, brother. We will show shemlen a settlement where former slaves and city elves try to build a new life in desperate poverty. Their haughty Dalish cousins have disappeared in the forest, not offering help to those who serve the Maker. I, a lonely man who had been forsaken by his lover, am their hahren. We swap every three days, because they must range far to gather food. One group stays here, while two others hunt. They are notoriously bad at hunting, of course.", Fen'Harel grinned.  
"Why every three days?", Ellana asked.  
"The People are drawing straws in the tavern to decide who gets to live here. We have so many talented actors that it would be a shame to deny their fun."  
"I hope you don't count me among them.", Elgar'nan said, wrinkling his nose.  
"I wouldn't dream of it, brother.", Fen'Harel said. "You and Ellana should stay out of sight for a few days, because Iron Bull with his men are surely going to ask questions about you. Take your sentinels, both of you, and lock yourselves inside Elgar'nan's temple."  
Turning to Elgar'nan, he continued:  
"You can be the distant, uncaring man who has no love for the shemlen elves. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."  
Elgar'nan gave him a dirty look, and took Ellana's arm.  
"Come then, dear. In his benevolence, Fen'Harel has imprisoned us for the sake of the People while he fixes everything. Again."  
"Stop it. Both of you.", Ellana said sharply. "Fen'Harel, you can't tell disapproving stories about the pantheon of old being petty and cruel, and then throw insults at Elgar'nan without thinking. And Elgar'nan, you should consider dropping the act even for once when Fen'Harel sees. He might understand you better if you let him."  
Feeling annoyed, she decided that she would hit them with her Keeper staff the next time they started. If the Dalish children could behave, why two ancient elves never learned?  
"I will not kiss him to make it up.", one of them said behind her back as she walked away. Ellana made a disgusted noise and picked up speed.

 

She visited Dalish camp, like she often did to make herself feel better. The Dalish treated her with respect and there was a distance between them, created by her becoming Mythal's vessel, but the familiarity of life there was soothing to Ellana.  
"It is good to see you, Mythal.", the old Keeper, Nelva, greeted her. "I have spoken with mothers, and they have decided to trust your judgement. Fen'Harel will guide us to this world you spoke of, and the children of the Dalish will be born there."  
"It is good to hear, but something must have spurred you to make this decision.", Ellana replied.  
"True. You must understand our difficulty to trust Fen'Harel, Mother, we don't know him as you do. But we know shemlen and their Chantry, and knowing they stand at our borders makes many of us uneasy. They may call it negotiations, and claim they come in peace, but as long as we keep to our faith and old ways, there can be no peace between the elves and men.", Nelva said.  
"I fear you might be right, Nelva."  
"You were raised as one of us, and you should know better than try to soothe old woman with words which must ring falsely in your own mind. There is no doubt about what shemlen will do.", Nelva scolded gently. "There will be a war, and many of us will die. And like we did in the Dales, we must preserve the future of our People."  
"Do not worry.", Ellana said, taking old woman's hands in hers. "I will bring justice to the People. I will take you home, where you can build and grow, take back the life and world which rightfully belongs to you. Our children will be born to immortality and magic, and what was, will return once more. This I swear to you, an oath of a Dalish."

 

 

\--

 

The light of candles threw long shadows on the walls of Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. The voices reciting Chant of Light were a soft murmur echoing from the lower floors, and his was among them.  
"And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars,  
We dreamed up false gods, great demons  
Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,  
Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you.", Dorian whispered.  
"Some verses make me wonder.", Cassandra said, her robes making soft sound as she moved to stand beside him. "Leliana has been going through her archives, and if Solas truly is one of them, like the Inquisitor, he must have been here for a very long time. It's like world has been filled with signs and hints, but nobody has thought to look, before."  
"Lavellan did. She looked too far in the abyss, and something in the abyss looked back.", Dorian said, trying to get up. His knees were stiff after hours of prayer, but faith was only thing which calmed his mind these days.  
"I think you are right. I have been asking it from myself, time after time, but still I find it impossible to believe that she would have lied to us whole time. I believe she was an innocent. Leliana gathered a frightful information about her after Divine Justinia's death, and after she left the Inquisition, we doubled our efforts."  
"Our latest bits of knowledge point to other direction.", Leliana said. Dorian flinched visibly as the spymaster stepped out from shadows; he hated when someone did that. "My spies found a stray Dalish clan crossing through western Orlais, and questioned them. They did not give the information willingly, but I think it was worth it."  
"What did you do?", Cassandra snapped. "I told you not to antagonize elves."  
Leliana met her gaze, looking defiant.  
"We have three ancient demons in our midst. We cannot afford to be compassionate."  
"I do _not_ approve.", Cassandra said forcefully.  
"You don't need to. I am the Left Hand, and I will do hard choices so you don't have to. My information is worth it.", Leliana repeated coolly. "The Inquisitor was not born to clan Lavellan. She was given to them, as a small child. I have an eyewitness account here."  
Dorian snatched the paper from her grip, and noticed the ink had been stained at some points. He wanted to think it had gotten wet by rain, and pointedly ignored the rusty stains as he read aloud:

_She fought with all she had, and although she was just a little da'len, her terror gave her strength._   
_"Mala suledin nalas, ma'len.", the man in golden armor said sadly, turning away. "Mythal sulevin."_   
_The child burst in a long string of sentences in elvish, calling for her father, pleading him, or so I thought because to be honest, I didn't understand much more than the word meaning father. The man didn't turn, only picked up the pace and strode into woods. The poor girl's eyes widened as she saw him disappearing, and she doubled her efforts. Tears ran over her face, and my heart ached for little mite as I held her on place. She could not have been much older than three or four. It was a hard age to go through this. For obvious reasons, we usually took our future mages as babies, who were not old enough to understand loss._   
_It had been a long time since another clan had brought a child to us, but it happened, every ten years or so. They usually grew up to be Keepers and it was a good thing, because Lavellan's Keeper was old and his First, Deshanna, was already in her fifties._   
_"Your father is gone, da'len.", Keeper said sadly. "He is not coming back."_   
_The girl looked at him, plainly not understanding a word he was saying._   
_"Lanan vira'an Vir'Abelasan?", she asked, sobbing. "Ar nuvenin ven ma arla, sahlin."_   
_"What is she saying?", Oranni, my wife asked._   
_"I do not know but a few words. Home, and sorrow.", Keeper said, shaking his head. "The child speaks the language of ancients."_   
_"Let go of her, Elrin.", Oranni ordered me. "Can't you see she is tired enough to fall asleep between you two? This must be horrible for her. To lose her home and her parents and she doesn't even understand a word of what we're saying. Whose bright idea was to teach a child to speak language nobody understands?"_

 

"We were unable to get exact translation, but the best scholars of elven language in university of Orlais think that he says 'you must endure, my child. For Mythal'. The child asks ' Which way to get to Well of Sorrows? I want to go home, now'.", Leliana consulted her notes.  
"She did say in the temple of Mythal that Abelas was her father. She never mentioned her mother.", Dorian said. Betrayal still tasted bitter in his mouth, the sting of it as fresh as it had been on the day when Corypheus died.  
"Why would he say that she must endure for Mythal, if she is Mythal?", Cassandra asked. Her faith in her friends and her Maker was strong, stronger than Dorian's, and Dorian envied her for it.  
"We don't know.", Leliana admitted. "Maybe she was possessed, since Dorian told us that Elgar'nan claims Mythal is a spirit. But I have another trail I will follow; it has been rumored that Inquisitor had a child years before she left her clan and came to Conclave. If we could secure her child, she could be made to listen."  
"It feels wrong to me.", Cassandra said. "If we are using children to blackmail now, we are no better than demons who carve their names to skin of the men, robbing them of their will."

Dorian knew Cassandra had not meant it to hurt, but it stung nonetheless. He knew better than anyone what had been done to him,and he despaired of it. Elgar'nan was a fear coloring his dreams, a shadow darkening his day. He hated what Elgar'nan made him feel; Dorian still dreamed of his easy laughs and the perfect lines of his naked body, but his dreams were colored by fear, pain and blood of Dorian's apprentices. The demon was charming, fun and wondrous thing to behold. He knew that if they had met under any other circumstances, Dorian could have loved him, but one could not love when he was owned by another. There was no room to anything else but a sick, twisted feeling which made his insides reel.  
Cassandra didn't understand, but Dorian was not sure about Leliana. There had been stories circulating in Orlais, whispers about younger, more innocent days of Nightingale. Dorian suspected that she might grant his request, if he had enough courage to ask. Soon, Dorian promised himself. Soon.

 

\--

 

Josephine was writing under the flickering light of a lantern, trying to finish a missive to Val Royeaux. There was not much to tell. The elves were silent and stubborn, and she couldn't fault them, since their lives didn't seem to have many causes for joy. Josephine remembered when she had approached the Inquisitor about her family's plight, talking about their poverty and lost trade emporium, and Lavellan had pointed out that usually people who were poor were wondering how to get their next meal. She had been unusually sharp, and Josephine understood it now.

Solas had arrived to meet them, and took them to see the nearest elven settlement. It was a pitiful place, much like Leliana's agents had described. Elves were still living in tents and ruins, and in Josephine's eyes, they were worse off than the servants in Orlais. Even those without tattoos were developing the wiry look which made Josephine always think of the Inquisitor, a body made by too many meager meals and days of hard work.  
"What do you think of all this, Iron Bull?", she asked, putting her quill down.  
"I'm not sure.", the qunari admitted. "Solas was always the unassuming one, ready to explain anything. He says that he came here for the Inquisitor, and I believe he tells the truth, but I doubt he tells us the whole truth. We've seen elves, yes, and it's much like Leliana's people reported. Ruins and tents, and no splendor at all. They are like they have always been, living in misery and trying to get by. Clinging to their culture to make their life worth something. But I'm more concerned of what we haven't seen. Dorian is a changed man. He has been shaken to his core, and nothing I have seen so far could have frightened him so. I would like to see this Elgar'nan he speaks about, with my own eye, and preferably greet him with my sword. We haven't seen a trace of Boss, either, and it worries me."  
"I asked about it from Solas. He said that so-called gods never took part in actual lives of the ordinary elves, minding their own business instead. His bitterness felt real, I think.", Josephine said, wondering.  
"Solas was always an atheist. The elves I spoke with, speak about their Mythal with respect, even love, and I doubt that a bunch of former 'Vint slaves started going back to their old ways just because someone told them to. Claiming man's heart takes something more tangible than a forgotten name.", Iron Bull replied.  
"The one I spoke with, Cyrion, said that she came to him when all was lost.", Josephine replied, looking at her quill. She didn't know what to write. She knew that it didn't matter if Mythal was real. It was enough that the elves thought she was real. Divine could not ignore it. Even if she did, the rest of Chantry would not. Elves could hide in their forest for a time, secretly praying to their own gods, but it was a dream destined to fail.  
"It's a pity.", Iron Bull admitted gruffly. "I talked about this once with Solas and Varric. Boss had named the city elf kid, blessing her in the name of Mythal in front of whole Skyhold. I warned Solas that if she continued like that, she would burn on stake one day. It was always elves for her. If she is actually ancient demon, or a god, I think she wept for joy when Mythal possessed her. She went gladly, and now she is ruling with this Elga'rnan fellow, leaving Solas to bite the dust."  
"I know.", Josephine sighed. "Her devotion is not wrong. I understand _why_ , but I wished she could see how hopeless it is. Honestly, I don't think there is anything which could make elves rise again. Except the orb, and even if she turns it against us - which I don't believe - , someone will rise to stop her. Someone like Hawke."  
"Haven't it occurred to you, lady, that the most heroes of recent times are elves? The Boss, and Hero of Ferelden before her?", Iron Bull asked. "The Qun has a saying about steel needing to be tempered before it cuts. I think you humans have it too easy. You are soft."  
"That is not an reassuring thought.", Josephine said.

 

\--

 

The temple was silent, most of the people living there and their visitors gone to sleep. Fen'Harel's order had caused a considerable amount of bickering, because Mythal's and Elgar'nan's sentinels didn't get along with each other. Elgar'nan thought it was probably a necessity, since they could be ordered to fight against any other god's followers, but it made their shared space in his temple a trial. The evening had been full of acid looks and bitter words, and Ellana had begged off early, claiming she was tired. Only Elgar'nan and his guards were still awake. Elgar'nan was idly reading the second part of "Swords and Shields" when one of Mythal's sentinels was admitted in.

 "My lord Elgar'nan. I bear a message from my lady.", Melana said, bowing deep.  
"Asking not to be disturbed because she is fooling around with Fen'Harel in the Fade, is she?", God of Vengeance clicked his tongue, mildly disapproving.  
"No, my lord.", Melana replied. "The message I have is not from Ellana. I recieved it from Mythal before she merged with her current vessel, and I was given instructions to deliver her words to you on the eve of your journey to shemlen palace ."  
"I am not sure if I believe you, but you have piqued my interest. Continue.", Elgar'nan said, his eyes narrowing.  
"Yes, my lord.", she bowed again, and placed a small crystal and an amulet on the table in front of him. Elgar'nan knew what it was. A durgen'len memory crystal.  
"You may leave me, guardian.", he said to Melana.

After his sentinels escorted Melana out and brought him the device to open the memory crystal, Elgar'nan considered the situation. He knew better than most that Mythal had a limited visions of the future. She could not see the whole picture, but she and some of her servants saw glimpses of dreams, a shards of what may be. It was not beyond reason to think that she might have known of shemlen delegation, or his own return. There was only one way to find out. Elgar'nan placed the crystal in the device and activated it with a flicker of mana.

The blue, crackling form was not like he remembered her. His Mythal had black curls and a curvy figure. The woman in the memory was looking like an old hag, a _human_ hag, but the dragon headpiece was indeed familiar. Jewelry meant nothing, however, and bodies were expendable commodity.  
"My sun. If you receive this message, something has gone wrong with the possession of my newest vessel. Fen'Harel's magic infused in my future body is an unexpected complication, but fate waits for no woman, not even me.", the image smiled.  
"For a safety measure, I have closed a part of my essence inside the amulet Melana will deliver to you. With your assistance and the divinity carried by my vessel, it's enough to create me anew. The modern elves are fragile creatures who die easily, but Abelas assures me that she has always been most dutiful child and will serve willingly. And Elgar'nan - I will never forgive you if you lose the amulet in that mess you call your temple. Keep it close."

 

Elgar'nan watched the crystal break, and took the amulet from the table. Deep in thought, he wound the golden chain between his fingers. The metal felt cold to touch, perfectly smooth.  
He pushed open the door to his bedroom, and sentinels following him moved to guard it. The bedroom was his alone, and he used his magic to search through it, like always. Elvhenan had taught him to beware of assassins.  
The room was empty, and he quietly opened the adjoining door, igniting the smallest flicker of veilfire. Elgar'nan could hear the quiet breaths of the sleeping woman, and he stepped closer, watching her. The lines of her face were a bit too strong, bit too long to be commonly beautiful - nobody could expect that a daughter of Abelas would be fine-boned and pretty like porcelain doll - but there was a smile on her lips, and Elgar'nan could _feel_ her joy. It was deep, silent and complete, filled with fondness. Quietly he let his magic brush against her, and closed his eyes for a moment. Of course. He should have known. Quietly, he unwound the chain of the amulet from his fingers, and put on a bedside table. Mythal forgive him, but he could not take her joy away, not now. She wanted it too badly, and they were friends. Friends with benefits, like the shemlen authors liked to say, but he genuinely liked her.  
Sighing, Elgar'nan disrobed and slipped between the covers. He pulled her against him, and admitted wordlessly that maybe he wanted a shred of happiness for himself, too. The small spark in the dark was more than Elgar'nan had had in very long time.

 

 

 

When Fen'Harel found Ellana in the Fade, she was glowing with quiet happiness. The emotion was so strong that the spirits gathered around her, unable to resist. He could see Love whispering in her ear, and Hope stood behind her back. The brightest of them all was Joy. The yet unformed wisps danced around her like dandelions in wind.  
"You must have had quite a day.", Fen'Harel said, shooing the wisps to sit on her side.  
"Elgar'nan and I had an adventure; we ventured into wardrobe floor to find something to wear in Winter Palace. Found some [schleets](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0By3BdSdwQ8), but we killed them before they got us. He has wondrous things there. His, and Mythal's, spare outfits for their boys, and things his visitors have forgotten.", Ellana smiled.  
"I remember you wanted a dress, last time.", Fen'Harel remarked. "You seem destined to go to Winter Palace, and never get quite what you want."  
"Who cares about Winter Palace?", Ellana asked lightly. "I can dance with you in Arlathan, and wear the dress. It will be much better than Halamshiral. Two weeks, and everything will be over."


	15. Bottles of Thedas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas spends family time with his daughter and Fen'Harel on the eve of Elgar'nan's ritual.

"Father, you do know I don't need your protection in the Fade?", Ellana asked as she walked through the flickering lights of the dreamers, searching for the Chantry spies.  
"I know.", Abelas said. He had to admit he felt slightly out of place, and the thought of being guided by thirty-year-old Dreamer was unnerving.   
"This is one.", Ellana stopped near a hovering little bubble. She reached to touch the surface of the dream and pulled them in.

To Abelas, it was odd to see the fractions which made up this elf's dream. Abelas was not Dreamer himself, but like every mage, he had a measure of control and always remembered his dreams upon waking. This was first time he had seen a dream belonging to someone who was not gifted with magic. It was like someone had dropped a glass on stone floor, and instead of whole item, there were shards of shining glass everywhere. The edges of dream were sharp, and it jumped erratically from one location to another. Ellana simply watched for a moment, a faint blue glow shining around her. That was magic Abelas knew. She was taking measure of the dreamer, looking beyond the mortal trappings to see if the secrets of elf's heart were true or false.  
Having seen what she needed, Ellana concentrated and the dream froze. The surroundings around them changed, and Abelas found himself standing in unfamiliar shemlen castle. It was a primitive place, fires burning in the main hall, and a dais below stained glass windows. Her daughter sat on a red armchair which had swords sticking out like a simplified image of sun.  
"What is this?", the frightened elf asked, looking around.  
"You call yourself Volnia, and you claim that you were a housemaid in Emprise du Lion before you came to us. But your true name is Illoria, and you work for the Nightingale of the Grand Cathedral.", Ellana said, her voice firm. "You were sent to spy on us, and deliver information to your master. You have done so, repeatedly. For betraying the People, I sentence you to die."  
The woman cried out, and started to run, but she couldn't take more than few steps before Ellana materialized in front of her.  
"This is a dream. This isn't real.", Illoria chanted to herself. "It's like falling. I always wake up before I hit the bottom."  
"Ordinarily, it would be so.", Ellana told her, drawing a knife from her belt. "But this time, you will not wake up."  
"No. Don't!", the woman strained in her grasp. "I have children! Three of them! They need me."  
Ellana considered her words, and Abelas stepped closer, ready to act if she faltered.  
"So do mine.", Ellana said and stabbed her.  
Abelas' golden eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything. Yet. Ellana turned towards him, looking wary. She still held the bloody knife in her grip.  
"If Zevran got his numbers right, she was the last one.", Ellana said.   
"Good. Your guardians are ready to march tomorrow morning to Winter Palace."  
"I still have some reading to do about the ritual. I think I need a drink.", she muttered.

 

Abelas leaned lightly against the counter in tavern, waiting as Cyrion served a group of city elves which looked like teenagers. To be honest, almost everyone looked like teenagers to Abelas.  
"Good evening, my friend.", Cyrion said warmly. "What would you like today?"  
"For me, a glass of Massad's Finale, if you still have it.", Abelas began. He looked at the corner, where his daughter sat. It was not often one saw a violent blush combined with grim determination, but that was the look on Ellana's face as she turned a page of a faded leather-bound book she held.  
"And for her, Butterbile 7:84. Not watered.", Abelas decided. "She is not in the mood to admire fine touches."  
Cyrion raised his eyebrows, but did as he was told.   
"I would appreciate if you refreshed my stock of ice.", Cyrion said as he handed Abelas a glass of wine and a cup made of silverite. The strongest spirits corroded wood or glass in mere minutes.  
"Of course.", Abelas nodded and flicked his fingers. Magic squeezed the water in the bowl, pressing it from all sides until the form changed, crystallizing into ice.   
"You make it look so easy.", Cyrion shook his head with a smile. "Tevinters would have wanted a song and a dance to go with any feat of magic, but you just do things."  
"It is one of the easiest things any mage can do. You will find out on your own when your gift returns to you.", Abelas assured him.  
"I still doubt that, friend. Me, as a mage? Maybe you have breathed too deeply the fumes rising from that cup."  
"You shall see.", Abelas replied lazily. "I will come to watch when you sit in a circle with all other apprentices and try to freeze a cup of water. Tedious business."

 

Ellana accepted her cup without comment and turned another page. Abelas turned his chair slightly so he could see anyone approaching and breathed the scent of wine. The elven tavern had begun from the bottles of Thedas Ellana had collected on her travels. Zevran had 'liberated' the collection after Ellana left Skyhold, stating that drinking and revelry were best ways to bring the people together. The idea had been good, Abelas admitted that, but most of the bottles were quite poisonous or downright deadly, and the patrons were usually better off asking for Merrill's homebrew.  
Abelas liked the collection because each bottle came from somewhere, with history attached. His world had once been full of stories built on stories, memories piled on each other until they became tangible things. When he had been a boy, his older sister had been courted by a noble for a time. The relationship had not lasted for long, naturally, but the man had gifted her with a basket of apples. They had been enchanted to stay at the peak of ripeness forever, and the smallest bite held an essence of every apple ever eaten, and that ever will be eaten. Abelas could still taste it on his tongue. He was careful not to think it for too long, because the sense of loss one felt afterwards had been sharp enough to move a man to tears.  
He wondered if the loss of things like that was somehow related to quickening. Mythal had taught that People were spirits who wore flesh, and spirits embodied emotions. Although they could change, the rapid changes usually ended badly, twisting the nature of spirit. The elves didn't seem to adjust any better to hurried decisions, if he used Ellana's life as a measuring stick. Abelas held no illusions about her obedience; there was no way any contract could have restricted Ellana against her will. But maybe she recognized the contract gave her a chance for inaction, which was sometimes the best available option. There was precious little Abelas could do, but he--  
"I don't understand this.", Ellana suddenly said, sounding anxious. "The People will be robbed of their future because I can't figure out a pornographic chart of mana flows."  
"Let me see that.", Abelas told her.   
Ellana held the book against her chest, clearly not eager to act on his suggestion, but after a moment she gave up and put the book on table, pushing it towards Abelas.  
"This is just so hopeless.", she sighed. "Maybe I should have become a Circle mage instead."  
"I doubt that would have done you any good.", Abelas said absently, following the lines of the chart with his fingertips. "The mages in the human towers are even more lost than the Dalish."  
Ellana took a sip from her cup and retaliated:  
"That is something you and Fen'Harel never understand. The Dalish are not lost, and neither we are shadows of what were. The history of elves is a cycle. Arlathan was the peak point, yes, but it didn't simply appear one day. Mythal remembers the beginning of Elvhenan, before the first cities were built. When their children were born, she was still skulking in the woods with Elgar'nan. It could be argued that the Dalish merely follow the original path of Creators. If we get his orb open, and raise Arlathan from the ground, the history comes into full circle again."  
"Here.", Abelas said, turning the book towards her. He had traced the outlines of the drawing with a small surge of mana, and as he released the spell, the picture started to move. "You can look from a different angle if you swipe your fingers over the parchment."  
Ellana stared at the book, looking mortified. The picture was much more informative this way, she had to agree, and the mana flows were clearly visible, but it left little to imagination. She was quite sure she was going die of embarrassment in Winter Palace.   
"I think I need another drink."

 

"I have a question.", Abelas said. He had drank enough to feel slightly tipsy, and Ellana's face was flustered with drink.  
"Go ahead.", she said, turning yet another page.  
"You clearly feel uncomfortable with the idea of sex.", Abelas started carefully. "Did something happen to you to make you think that way? I have heard stories of templars in Free Marches."  
Ellana lifted her gaze from the book.  
"No, of course not.", she said, her voice genuinely surprised. "The stories are true, but I never ventured far from the camp. After early childhood, I mean. My Keeper said that I had a habit of running away when I was little, and after I almost drowned in a river, he started keep me on his side at all times. I never spent very much time with the other children. When he died, Deshanna became our Keeper, and I got my magic soon after that. Sexuality is a cultural taboo among Dalish mages."  
The relief on Abelas' face was evident, and Ellana felt perplexled. How he had gotten such an idea?  
"It's the earliest thing I remember. The river.", she added.   
To Abelas, it was just one more sacrifice. Not his, but his lover's. To pour love into her child for years, to die for her, and not to leave even one memory of herself behind.   
"It is probably for the best.", he said. "We didn't part from you willingly; it was something you should not have seen."  
"We?", Ellana repeated. "You and who?"  
"You weren't born from a color-coded egg.", Abelas said dryly. "In case you wondered."  
"I suspected that wasn't the case, but with Mythal, you never can be sure.", Ellana giggled.  
"Indeed."   
"I always thought it in Dalish perspective.", she mused. "The mage children have only one parent, usually the one with higher status. Enethriel was always Zarel's, since he was a Keeper already."  
"It was not so.", Abelas remarked. "I fell in love with your mother, and I had no intention at all of having more children. I had two sons, much earlier, but they have both been dead for a long time."  
"So I was a slip, because you weren't careful enough?", Ellana asked. She apparently found it very amusing. "No birth control spells?"  
"Your mother was not a mage.", Abelas replied. "She was an archer who fought in Fereldan rebellion."  
"Night Elves?"  
He nodded.   
"Liandra was not eager to talk about it. She thought they must had been betrayed by someone in high command, because Orlesians clearly expected an attack."  
"Liandra?", Ellana's eyes flashed with glee. "I can see why you would fall for her, if Loghain's stories are to be trusted. You seem to have a thing for bossy women, father."  
"What?", Abelas exclaimed. He had not certainly expected a comment like that.  
"I used to pester Loghain for stories about Night Elves because I needed to find non-religious topics to educate the children of Skyhold. I wrote a book about them when I was with Inquisition.", Ellana explained, laughter sparkling in her voice. "I never expected you to admit.. You and Liandra. It's just priceless. Did she ever tell you the story how she stole a litter of mabari from Orlesians for Loghain's birthday?"  
Abelas was not sure if he should feel insulted for his daughter's obvious amusement at his choice of lover, but the story had sparked his curiosity. He took his glass in hand and settled more comfortably in his chair to listen.

 

Fen'Harel was not sure if he was hearing things, but when he pushed the tavern door open, he could hear someone laughing, and it sounded disturbingly like Abelas. Except Abelas never laughed.  
"Are you here in official business or for fun?", Kallian asked. "It's my shift tonight. Others are busy polishing their armors for tomorrow and since I don't have one, I got the guard duty."  
"What are they doing?", Fen'Harel looked at the corner table, where Ellana was explaining something enthusiastically, her hands gesturing wildly. Abelas was looking less stern than usually, almost relaxed and happy as he took a sip of his wine and asked something.   
"Last time I filled their glasses, they were having the talk about bees and flowers. With a book filled with dirty pictures. I got a peek at it. The 'Vint bastards would have loved to get their hands on a moving porn. You old folks never stop astonishing me."  
He approached them tentatively, not sure if he was welcome to something which was clearly a private family meeting. Kallian did not understand elvish, and the actual nature of the book on the table was largely lost to her. It was a tome of magic discussing the most effective ways of drawing power from both sides of the Veil. The topic of conversation, however, was different. Ellana was telling Abelas a story, which Fen'Harel recognized. It was one of Loghain's tales.  
"Take a seat and have something to drink. The liquor is good.", Abelas said to Fen'Harel before turning his attention back to Ellana. She smiled at Fen'Harel, well pleased at her father's invitation, but didn't interrupt the flow of her words.   
".. Liandra was forced to rethink her plan, but she was determined not to return to camp empty-handed. There was one group of Orlesians who had free entry anywhere; the Chantry mothers. She knew nobody would suspect an elf who collected dirty clothes for laundry, and Mother Marguerite had never been the type to pay much attention to servants.."  
Fen'Harel leaned back in his chair, and poured himself a glass of mead from the bottle Abelas had offered to him. Chasind sack mead, the label said. It was described as a brutishly strong honey liquor, reminiscent of warm summer days, apple blossoms on the wind, with an unexpected aftertaste of Father going off to war, never to return. Bitter, to say the least.  
Fen'Harel tasted all those things on his tongue, and let himself to be soothed by the sound of her voice. It was a curious choice for a drink from Abelas, considering Ellana and Elgar'nan would leave for Halamshiral tomorrow, but Fen'Harel didn't want to spoil the mood. Grim fatalism had it's place, but it was not here, and not tonight.


	16. The ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elgar'nan and Ellana go to Winter Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is "M"-rated. For various reasons. It's gritty, and dark, but I rather like it. And Dorian needs it, for his future job! For those of you who like music, the theme is Perseus https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mwtLqdQuxo
> 
> We have gotten to launching point for the "war"-tag of the story. This story arc will end around chapter 20 or 21, I think - you'll recognize it when it happens - and I'll jump straight to third part, where we start dealing with Blight. I have no idea on how long the story will be, but I'd guess 40+ chapters.
> 
> I will continue writing chapters to this story file, so you don't have to bother with new subscriptions or bookmarks. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to tell how much I appreciate your comments - it's always fun to read what you think of twists and turns, and I enjoy using your ideas. Elgar'nan would not read so much smut without you. It balances nicely the less savory sides of his personality - as seen in this chapter.

Dorian had never thought to visit Winter Palace again. But like Leliana said, he was a liability in his current state, a prisoner of unknown magical binding, and therefore a risk for Cassandra's safety. Leliana was not satisfied with Josephine's reports from Brecilian Forest. They spoke of hard work and poverty, stating that currently elves were no threat to anyone. Dorian didn't believe it. He had seen Elgar'nan's power in action, and Dorian knew what was hiding under that pleasing manner.  
He was ready to do whatever it took to stop the elves before it was too late, but Cassandra didn't take him seriously after Josephine's messages. Nobody did. Tevinter was far, and Dorian could not prove it had been an ancient elven deity who had sparked the slave rebellion in Minrathous. People were starting to give him odd looks. They were suspecting he was mad, talking nervously about the dangerous elves, and Dorian's frequent weeping episodes or his nightmares didn't help at all. Only one who took him seriously was Leliana, and Leliana had never been a pleasant person to be with.

The spymaster had been the one to send Dorian to Winter Palace and secure an invitation. His job was to gather information on Marquise Briala, judge how the elf reacted to Gaspard's obvious insult and arrange her to be picked up by Leliana's agents if the situation started to look bad. Arranging a formal party to commemorate the Exalted March on Dales was as blunt as a stonefist spell, but Gaspard had never been one for smooth diplomacy. Leliana had told Dorian that she was not willing to let Briala die before she got some answers about Marquise's relationship with Inquisitor, and Dorian could stand with that reasoning. Asking questions from dead people was rarely satisfying.

 

Halamshiral was pleasant enough that late summer night. The first autumn chills were yet to come, and Dorian reminded himself to return back home before the weather turned foul. He had had enough of cold with Inquisition, thank you.  
Unlike the last time, other guests were generally welcoming to him. His membership in Inquisition Inner Circle had earned him a reputation of "good Tevinter", and some of the more adventurous noblemen were harboring ideas of playing with fire. Normally, Dorian would have been delighted to play the game of villainous seduction, but he was not very comfortable with anything which required him to take off his shirt, revealing the mark on his chest. Luckily, nobody expected one to get actually naked for a quick tryst in the dark corner during a party, so he was considering taking advantage of the situation later. He was, after all, playing the role of slightly sinister Tevinter nobleman, and was expected to act like one.

Although the wines of the south lacked the full body of Tevinter grapes, they tasted pleasant enough to get easily drunk. Sadly, Dorian was having hard time drinking the required amounts. There were no human servants carrying the trays or topping glasses. Leliana had said that Gaspard had arranged a purge in Winter Palace two weeks ago, getting rid of everyone working for Briala. It had been costly necessity, and Leliana's source had said that Gaspard had played it safe by hiring a group of Antivan Crows to work for him tonight. They were posing as servants and quietly taking care of any possible counterattacks Briala might come up with. Dorian couldn't quite decide which was worse; being served drinks by House of Crows or an elven spy working for Briala. Crows, at least, were notoriously loyal to their current employer, but it was still unnerving.

Steeling his resolve, Dorian took a glass from a servant who looked the least threatening and turned towards the ballroom. He quietly sipped his glass as the liveried men pushed open the double doors to let him pass. It was getting dark enough to get the party started, and if the last time Dorian had been in Halamshiral had taught him anything, it was that the dance floor was the place for intrigue.  
"Are you enjoying the party?", a man wearing the mask of Ghislain asked Dorian. It was Duke Laurent de Ghislain, the son of Vivienne's late lover and one of Gaspard's closest supporters.  
"I haven't decided yet.", Dorian replied smartly. "The wine is passable, but being a hothouse orchid, I never do well without being properly attended."  
"I have heard that you prefer to fill your nights by listening the song of birds. A nightingale, in particular.", the duke mentioned. "It would be my pleasure to offer you different songs to enjoy. I find the tune played here tonight quite exciting. Would you dance with me to it, dear Altus?"  
"That is a surprising offer. I thought all southerners were inclined to scream if a magister touched them."  
"I spent all my formative years in the salon of Grand Enchanter Vivienne. She was my father's mistress and felt that my education in fine manners was her personal responsibility. That experience can harden a man to endure anything life throws at her. And you are not a magister yet, my lord Pavus, so whether or not I will scream for you will be a mystery for a time being.", the duke smiled at Dorian, offering his hand.

 

Dorian was starting to enjoy this party. The duke was good dancer, and he had a biting tongue, which made Dorian think the man might not have lied about Vivienne teaching him the Game. Both qualities were well appreciated by Dorian, and dancing openly with a man when the nobles watched made him feel all fuzzy and warm inside. Southern barbarians were so much less judgmental in matters of love. Of course, this wasn't love, but it was surely lust, and a mutual desire to get better acquainted in suitable closet while talking politics.  
He did notice Marquise Briala looking towards door, but since she seemed frozen on her spot near the southern balcony doors, Dorian ignored her and enjoyed the feel of strong hands around his waist. It had been a long time since he had been twirled properly, and duke proved not to be a disappointment. He was still feeling slightly dizzy, and wondered whether it was the twirling, lust or poisoning by Crows when the imperial herald coughed loudly and announced:  
"Elgar'nan, the All-Father, Eldest of the Sun, He Who Overthrew His Father, the God of Vengeance and Fatherhood, the leader of Elvhen Pantheon. Accompanying him: Mythal, the All-Mother, Great Protector, Goddess of Love, Motherhood and Justice, and the co-leader of Elvhen Pantheon. Formerly known as the lady Inquisitor Lavellan, the Herald of Andraste."  
A rush went through the crowd, the voices of nobles getting louder. Dorian thought his heart would stop when he saw Elgar'nan descending the stairs, wearing a splendid silver coat with embroidery and that damned crown of twigs and leaves. He was holding hands with Ellana, who wore similar long coat in darker grey, the uneven sleeves slashed with blue silk and white lace. She wore a diadem on her hair, and her feet were bare.  
"It's a pitiful show, really.", the duke said to Dorian. "I thought Briala was better than that. She is no match for Gaspard, if she tries to frighten him with stories of supposedly glorious past."  
The music had started again, and the elven gods were dancing with them. Dorian saw Briala standing on the same spot, and the shock on her face was turning into annoyance. No, it was clear that the Marquise had not planned for this, and she had no idea who had arrived to answer her prayers.

 

It was like watching an argument between Black Divine and unfortunate contender. The outcome was clear, and the death was inevitable but Dorian could not make himself say anything to stop it from happening. The music had just ended, and the duke begged his leave because the emperor was going to make a speech.  
"Alas.", Elgar'nan's honeyed voice said behind Dorian's shoulder. "What a curious incident to meet you here. Have you enjoyed the party so far?"  
"The recent developments in guest list have sadly robbed me from any joy I might have had.", Dorian said between gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?"  
"I wished to visit my former lands. This palace is built over the main temple of Dales, which happened to be dedicated to me. I find no fault in that, since this place was the heart of my realm in times of Elvhenan. The area where I fought my father is still full of hot springs, I'm told.", Elgar'nan said conversationally.  
He didn't seem disturbed at all for the nonchalant glances the pair got from nobles. Ellana at his side was wearing the same look of cold determination the Inner Circle had jokingly called her Inquisitor face. Dorian remembered it had never ended well for those opposing her. Fighting the fear rising in his mind, he asked:  
"Can I go now? Ellana?"  
She looked at the upper floor, where the all balcony doors were closing and shook her head.  
"I'm sorry, Dorian. You never should have been here.", she replied. "It is too late now."  
"What are you going to do?", Dorian's voice rose, and he would have screamed, if Elgar'nan's magic crushing his throat had not robbed him of his voice at last possible moment.  
"A straightforward bit of magic.", Elgar'nan said. "The stage was prepared by you shemlen, and the activation energy will be provided by us. Our baby is the catalyst, making this much easier than it would be otherwise, and we are going to induce a breaking of bonds to start. Phase two is a single-displacement reaction, and this is a fertile ground indeed for harvesting the substance required."  
Dorian remembered some of the terms from Alexius' lessons, but one word stole all his attention. Gaspard was speaking on the upper level, talking something about the strength of Orlais, but Dorian had had enough. His throat ached too much to shout, but he could hiss, if he tried hard.  
"Baby? By Maferath's hairy arse, Lavellan!", Dorian looked at Ellana, feeling disgusted. "How could you! With Elgar'nan, of all people, knowing what he has done! Are you going to spread your legs to every madman who speaks a few words of elfy nonsense and has pointy ears? Drop them in and rebuild the empire? _Sera_ was right about you."  
"If that is your opinion, Dorian, do not come asking for my help ever again.", Ellana's voice was chill enough to freeze man's balls. "I will not let you or anyone ruin the one choice I made purely for my own happiness."  
"Even though it would be interesting to see how long you could last in a fight against her, Alas, I have to excuse myself.", Elgar'nan said. "I believe I just heard my cue."  
He took a step forwards and just vanished from Dorian's sight. A Fade step, he thought, but where?  
"I ask again, Lavellan, are you serious? I don't know what you are planning, but if Elgar'nan is involved, it is nothing good.", Dorian warned.  
"We are going to save the People.", Ellana said, crossing her hands behind her back. The lights of the Winter Palace made her eyes shine with devotion which made Dorian's blood run cold. She had never been an Andrastian, and her faith to her own gods must have been a complicated mess at this point, but Dorian had always known her true religion was her loyalty to elves.

 

".. to commemorate the second Exalted March, when our nation fought to bring peace to our borders. The emperor knew that a country cannot prosper with a hostile neighbor, and the holy forces of the Chantry saw the truth of his great cause, joining forces against the elves who had ransacked Montsimmard and were marching on Val Royeaux.", Gaspard spoke. "This was the very day when Orlesian chevaliers won against the enemy, and together with templars, we burnt the statues of pagan gods and destroyed their temples, laying a cornerstone of new age of peace and prosperity--"  
"Your grasp of history is quite accurate.", Elgar'nan said, appearing behind Gaspard. "This place was built over the main temple of the Dales, which was devoted to me. The altar was.. precisely on this spot, where you stand. I find it almost poetic."  
Leaning against railing, Elgar'nan looked at gathered nobles below.  
"Since you all have gathered in my temple, you will have a unique chance to participate in a religious practice of elvhen. You will assist us in magic ritual, performed for the glory of the People. You don't need to do anything, not even comply, because you have sown this ground wet with elven blood and feelings of vengeance. All those prayers will be heard today, and your blood will speed our way home. This world will burn, and we shall simply watch from above, then start building anew after your race is gone."  
"Guards! Seize this lunatic elf!", Gaspard roared, and drew his sword. But the guards never came, and Elgar'nan was quicker. He raised his hand, palm up, towards the emperor of Orlais, and the blood burst out from the man.  
The crowd started to scream, and Dorian noticed the elves in black armors standing on guard in front of all exits. He thought he had seen an armor like that in the temple of Mythal, but in different color. Shit.

Ellana left from his side, climbing up the stairs. She took off her long grey coat and handed it to elven waiter, who winked at her admiringly. Zevran. That two-faced bastard.  
She wore thinnest golden silk Dorian had ever seen and her body was painted with abstractly beautiful lines which were easily visible through the fabric. They glittered blue under her short dress, and it took a moment before Dorian understood why. The color was not paint. It was pure lyrium.  
Elgar'nan heaved Gaspard's dead, bloodless body over the railing. The former emperor crashed down near Dorian, his eyes unseeing and his face whiter than snow. As Ellana moved to stand close to Elgar'nan, sentinels bared their blades and stood on guard, facing away from the pair.  
The God of Vengeance held Gaspard's blood in the air above his hands, and with a practiced gesture, he guided it to form a ritual circle around him and Ellana. It flared to life, and Dorian felt unwell when Elgar'nan dropped the coat from his shoulders. Elgar'nan was naked under it, his body similarly painted with lyrium. This was starting to remind Dorian too much about Tevinter parties. He found himself wondering how much exactly his forefathers had stolen from elves.  
When Ellana took Elgar'nan's face between her hands and kissed him, Dorian finally understood the meaning of whole spectacle. They both were glowing with magic, their own power further enhanced by blood and lyrium. A kiss created a spiral of magic rising to meet the familiar round object hovering in the air above them. They were going to open Elgar'nan's foci.  
"Are those elves actually going to have sex? This must be the most original theatre production I have ever seen in Winter Palace. The actor playing Gaspard was really good. It's a pity it was his last show.", an elderly dowager asked from Dorian.  
"It _was_ Gaspard, you idiot!", Dorian replied with his damaged voice. "And yes, the elvhen gods are going to draw a terrible amount of power using sex and blood, the strongest primal substances there is, and then we all will die! Believe me, I'm from Tevinter and I would know!"

 

It was impossible to get out. Few nobles, the most sensible ones, had the same idea but after the first two died by sentinels' blades, they understood leaving was not an option. Dorian could hear the people screaming behind the ballroom doors, and he could guess that the Crow waiters were busy there, working for their master.  
If Dorian had gotten Elgar'nan's explanation right, they were not only going to open the orb, but charge it as well. He asked himself what would a magister do if he needed to power an ancient artifact, and the explanation was entirely too easy. Traditionally, there was only one role reserved for elves in assisting an ambitious Tevinter magister, and if the setting was reversed... Fasta vass!

Not knowing what else to do, Dorian ripped his shirt open. In Brecilian forest, Elgar'nan had proved himself a man who didn't like other people touching his things, and God of Vengeance thought Dorian was his property. As much Dorian hated the stupid tattoo, it might save his skin tonight. It was worth trying, in any case.  
Dorian pressed himself against a stone column and tried to be hide. Although his back was turned, he could feel the massive amount of power building in the air, like a storm rising. It made his head hurt. The place was well chosen, the analytical part of Dorian's mind thought, and the catalyst undoubtedly helped. The stupidity of mankind had never been more evident to him than on that moment, because the majority of Orlesian nobles were still staring at elves, not understanding they were looking their death in the eye although Elgar'nan had told them so before he killed Gaspard.  
He thought of woman who had hid under Solas' couch when Zevran had touched her ear, and for a moment Dorian felt sadness, thinking what fate had pushed her to this road. But there was no room for pity in the face of death, and Dorian pressed his hands together, lips forming the familiar words of the Chant as he waited to die.

Except he did not. He had chosen well to his place to hide, because when collected power broke loose, the wave of magical energy ripped through the crowd. The sentinels had expected it, shielding themselves, but the Orlesian nobles had no chance at all to save themselves from a world of hurt. The column shielded him from the worst. Dorian's ability to use magic was still restricted by Elgar'nan's will, but Elgar'nan was distracted at the moment with other, more urgent emotions. Dorian bit his lip as he opened his mind wide and took it all in. He held the current of magic raging through him, no matter how it hurt, and he envisioned a flame. Sacred flame of Andraste, burning through the bonds of slavery.  
"Now her hand is raised,  
A sword to pierce the sun  
With iron shield she defends the faithful  
Let chaos be undone", Dorian whispered the words of Chant and turned the flame inwards.

 --

A moment ago, Ellana had been a shining creature of light and spirit, power burning in her veins so hard that it hurt. But she had given it all to him, to open the orb, and she had seen the hunger waking up in Elgar'nan's eyes when the orb cracked open. The wave of magic had thrown the people around them down on their knees, but he stood tall, and then his form changed.  
Mythal remembered that... thing, the shifting, shadowy mass with blazing eyes. Ellana couldn't say if it's form was one or many, and she watched it turning towards the Orlesian nobles.  
She picked up Elgar'nan's coat from the floor, and pulled it over her shoulders. It did nothing to drive away the cold shivers running down her spine, but Ellana knew she had to be strong. Elgar'nan had never known when to stop. It was her job to make him stop, when the time was right. Not yet.  
"You were ridiculously awesome. It's good to know I didn't lie to my cultists about the religious practices of ancient elves when I lured them to join us.", Zevran's voice brought her back to current moment. "Come along, queen of Love. Abelas is probably chewing his nails right now. He did not appreciate you ordering him to guard the gates, and I promised to deliver you as soon as it was over. A bath and a nice stiff drink, that's what you need. Or two drinks. And some clothes, I think."  
She let Zevran's prattling fall over her like water as he led her swiftly away from the ballroom and death within.


	17. Bride of the Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian has a religious experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you noticed the similarities with Flemeth's and Andraste's diadems? They both love pointy designs.

"Do you have any injuries?", Melana asked.  
Ellana shook her head. It was clear she was not all right, but this was not first time when the sentinels had dealt with people who were shell-shocked from performing a greater rite, whether they were priests, guardians or mortal vessels for their goddess. It had not been uncommon occurrence in Elvhenan.  
The bath was waiting in front of fire, steam rising from the tub. Several candles had been lighted up to provide more illumination, gentle darkness making it easier to adjust to any lingering discomfort from power withdrawal.  
The room was small, but luxurious, and most of all, easy to defend. Ilossa helped the coat off Ellana's shoulders, while Melana kept watch.  
Their charge was mostly unharmed. Few bruises, and love bites, but nothing worth mentioning. It wa much less than Melana had expected. It was impossible to mistake the raw tide of power Melana had felt, and Zevran had confirmed that rite had worked.  
Ilossa had goaded Ellana to step into water, and Melana's eyes narrowed as the she looked at naked woman. The reflection of flames danced on the water, throwing long shadows over Ellana's skin which was marked by blood and lyrium, but there was something different. A very faint fullness, a curve where there had been none before. Melana would have dismissed it, if she had not been the one whose job was to monitor the strain orb had caused on Mythal's vessel and seek ways to undo the damage.  
Water sloshed as Ellana let her body sank under surface. Ilossa kneeled behind her, rubbing Ellana's temples lightly to drive the exhaustion away. Their oasis of peace in midst of battle would be short-lived, but necessary; Elgar'nan had never been able to make himself stop once he gave in to his true nature. Let him spend his strength, and exhaust himself, while Mythal rested to better leash his vengeance.  
"I will go and tell Abelas.", Melana said, picking up the coat from the floor. Neither woman paid her much attention; Ilossa was focused on her magic and Ellana had closed her eyes.

The coat was Elgar'nan's. Guardians' duty was to watch, protect and assist, and any sentinel worth of her vallaslin collected a fountain of information during her servitude. Tidbits of other gods and their habits, of other notable persons, supplicants, priests. One of lesser known facts was that Elgar'nan was always losing things because he was hopeless at keeping order. Melena remembered that once Mythal had ordered two slaves to walk behind Elgar'nan and pick up everything he misplaced, but the experiment had ended after one of slaves had died after touching the globe of imprisonment.

Closing the door behind her, Melana checked the pockets and sighed as her fingers touched the cool metal and sharp lines of a crystal. It was not her nature to question Mythal's wisdom, but even her lady had not expected this turn of events. Melana had delivered the amulet to Elgar'nan, as Mythal had commanded, but he had not done his part. She had expected him to act on it immediately, because Elgar'nan was not known for his patience, and although Melana liked Ellana, it was obvious to anyone that it would have been much better if the possession had gone as planned. The elvhen needed their Great Protector, not a mortal woman whose mind could not comprehend Mythal's memories without collapsing under their weight. Fen'Harel's bond was a distraction none of them could afford, and it looked like Elgar'nan was falling into same trap. Elvhenan had not faulted people for sharing a bed or seeking pleasure, but children were another matter entirely. Children were serious issue, and children of gods even more so. All that twin-souls trouble with Dirthamen and Falon'Din had made Mythal believe firmly that any other members to pantheon should be raised to it due worthiness and power, not born into divinity. Elgar'nan had not agreed. Clearly, he still did not agree.

Mythal had been betrayed once, and her sentinels had failed her. It was a bitter grief they all shared. Their failure had started the chain of events which had ruined their world and taken away their meaning. When their goddess had finally returned to them, in strange shemlen body, Melana had sworn she would not stay her hand again, she would not fail Mythal simply because she wasn't sure whether she should wait or act. Inaction had brought them only doom.

She put Elgar'nan's coat on the table, and held the amulet in her hands. Drawing a deep breath, Melana took a hold on the crystal and whispered the words of a prayer as she broke it.  
"Mythal sulevin."

 --

Dorian was delirious with pain. He had tried to rip Elgar'nan's binding by turning his magic on himself, and his chest was a raw mess of weeping flesh. Screaming people filled the halls of Winter Palace, trying to flee from the creature who hunted them. Dorian had only seen a glimpse of it, mercifully, and he had no words to describe what it looked like. It was a horror risen from the deepest parts of the Fade, worse than any demon he had ever seen.

A part of him still reeled against what he saw, elves rising against the men. Dorian had once shared a common sentiment of elves being pleasing to an eye, their features symmetric and movements graceful. To Dorian, elves had been pretty and useful, their plight an old and worn story which scarcely invoked any feeling except minor discomfort when he had discussed slavery with the Inquisitor.  
It was horrifying to see the grace he had once acclaimed now employed in a slash of knife against young woman's throat, and the gush of blood running over the expensive silk. He ran blindly, seeing the sentinels pick up a man from his left and Crows taking a group of old women from the right. Dorian knew he was going to die.

He turned around corner and pushed open the first door along the corridor which wasn't locked. Dorian dropped on his knees, repeating a prayer to Maker under his breath. It didn't suit to situation, but he couldn't remember any other words.  
"Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.  
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.", Dorian whispered. From the corner of his eye, he could see something white in the room. He was not alone.   
"Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.  
In my arms lies Eternity.", a sweet voice said, her face shining with heavenly light. It was a woman, floating in the air. She wore a white dress, and a sharply pointed headpiece over her black curls.  
"I always thought Andraste was a blond.", Dorian blurted out, staring at the manifestation.   
The woman looked amused.   
"Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.", she promised to Dorian, and took his hand. Her touch felt like a brush of wisp against his skin, not warm human hand, but she led Dorian along the abandoned passages of Winter Palace. The sounds of battle and dying screams became quieter with each step, until he could no longer hear them.

Finally they arrived to nondescript wooden door, and as Dorian pushed it open, he could see the most welcome sight in his life: the city of Halamshiral was below them. The jump was dangerous one, but Dorian had broken Elgar'nan's command on his magic, and could shield himself somewhat with a spell. Dying for broken neck was preferable to being butchered by elves.  
"Are you truly Andraste?", Dorian asked her guide. "Or am I mad?"  
"Your kind called me Andraste, before she burned.", the woman replied. "Gather the men of Tevinter and bring them to Arlathan forest. You will find my Herald there. Strike her down, for she has reached above herself, and she no longer enjoys my favor."  
"I swear I will.", Dorian kneeled to kiss the apparition's hem.   
Faith filled his heart, burning and true. All those hours he had spent in his father's chapel, or later in Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux were rewarded, and even the pain of his body paled in the face of Maker's bride. It was her hand which had saved him from the ferocious elves; it were her lips which offered him his fate, a way to save Tevinter and stop this madness before it was too late. Dorian Pavus looked in the golden eyes of Andraste, and knew he would love and worship her like a Bride of the Maker she was, for his life was hers.

 

\---

 

"Give me a status report.", Elgar'nan ordered as he dived into garden fountain to wash off the blood, grime and traces of lyrium.   
Ellana was breathing heavily, exhausted as she leaned against the wall. The battle between Creators had leveled the whole garden wing of the palace when Ellana had attempted to stop Elgar'nan before he turned on his own kind. It had been harder than she had expected, because she could not shapeshift at the moment, and Elgar'nan had been drunk with the newfound power. But she had succeeded, and it was all that mattered. There had been more than enough magical energy to fill her orb again, and his was fully charged.  
"The mission was success.", Senris said. "The Crows were guarding the servants' entrance and garden area, while Mythal's sentinels held the shemlen inside the palace. We had some minor casualties, a group of three Crows in the kitchen area and one sentinel, but there are no human survivors."  
"Excellent.", Elgar'nan replied, rising from the pool and drying himself on fluffy towel one of his sentinels was holding out for him. "We should get going, then. No use to linger here."  
"Indeed.", Senris nodded.  
"Tell Briala that this is her last chance. Either she and her people will come with us now, or they will stay and face the shemlen retaliation.", Ellana told Zevran. "Those who stay behind, will be on their own. They must gather on a market square within two hours."  
Zevran nodded and his Crows vanished from sight, heading to Halamshiral. The city was still sleeping, and it would be the last good night's sleep for them for a very long time.


	18. Outplayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you remove the layer of nostalgia from stories of elven gods, you might see the danger. They were arrogant and fickle. They warred amongst themselves. They had feuds, vendettas." - Solas
> 
> A chapter where Elgar'nan outplays Ellana and Fen'Harel in Game, in Arlathan fashion. 
> 
> He was not going to forgive over three thousand years he spent stuffed inside a box.
> 
> And he has always loved a perfect revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a horrible, horrible chapter *dances with joy* It took hours to write simply because I stopped every five minutes to hug myself and giggle madly with glee instead of writing. And I had to weep a bit, because the Crossroads discussion is horrible.
> 
> If you feel like someone hit you with a hammer on the head, and can't quite understand *how* this happened, I recommend you read chapter 11 again, knowing what you know after finishing the first part of this chapter. Ellana's actions and attitude in chapter 11 make much more sense with this bit of information, I promise.
> 
> Fen'Harel isn't only one who can screw up. Ellana is as bad as him.
> 
> For those who want maximum angst, a soundtrack.  
> Photo Montage - We were soldiers OST https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4xyL1pK_Qc for most of the chapter  
> and for the Solas discussion in Crossroads;  
> Mina/Dracula from Bram Stoker's Dracula https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hYwfqYlSro  
> Mina/Elisabeth would be even better if you have Rdio subscription, couldn't find it from Youtube.
> 
> And this chapter is not the major plot twist I've warned you about. Chapter 20, I think.

"Are you ever going to tell Fen'Harel that he is going to be a father?", Elgar'nan asked Ellana as they ate in a small room in Halamshiral city, their privacy protected by wards.  
Ellana cringed, because she noticed Abelas stopping in the middle of the motion of pouring water in a goblet in front of her. After a second, her father continued like nothing was amiss, but Ellana knew he had heard. Elgar'nan's eyes were twinkling with glee, and she knew he had done it on purpose.  
"We already discussed this when I came to you.", she collected whatever dignity she had left. "I told you that he is not ready. You volunteered for the task, and I believe father is a man who carries responsibility of the child, not the one who gave the seed. Have you changed your mind, now?"  
"Of course not. Sex with you is an enjoyable side benefit, and I like children. If this one turns out to be a delight, we can have more of them. I was merely wondering what will you tell if the baby is born with a ginger hair? We are both blond, after all.", Elgar'nan remarked.  
"I will blame the city elf heritage. From my mother's side. There might be a redhead or two.", Ellana replied. She had lost her appetite, feeling Abelas' eyes on her, but she resolutely continued eating anyway. One could not count the next meal arrive timely during an escape.  
"In Elvhenan, it is a father's prerogative to choose a name for a daughter. I've been thinking of Siona. It has a nice ring.", Elgar'nan said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.  
Ellana considered his suggestion. Siona. It rolled nicely on the tongue, and she remembered the name from the epitaph of Emerald Knights.  
"I like it.", she admitted. "But are you sure the baby is a girl?"  
"I am the God of Fatherhood, and we just enacted a greater rite with our baby as a catalyst. I _know_.", Elgar'nan said. He pushed his chair back and stood up. "But I will leave you to finish your meal. I'll start leading the Halamshiral elves through eluvian. You will handle the closing off the network?"  
"Of course.", Ellana said, staring at vegetables on her plate. She had no appetite at all, and Senris smirked at her when he left behind Elgar'nan, leaving her alone with Abelas.

 

Abelas sat down on the chair Elgar'nan had vacated, and pushed his plate aside. He considered his da'len for a time and said then:  
"Your actions are finally starting to make sense to me. I didn't think you would be so.. flighty in matters of love, and neither I thought you would go to Elgar'nan just to spite Fen'Harel. It was unlike you."  
It was like opening a dam, Abelas thought. A push, and the words came pouring out from her lips, the whole story of it. How she had known merely days before wedding, and cherished her secret to tell Fen'Harel after the bonding ceremony. Then everything went wrong, and he walked away again.  
"I went to him, to ask why he did it.", Ellana said, her expression still full of hurt. "He said he would return to me after the People are immortal again and the Veil is gone. He called it his redemption, and it means everything to him. I couldn't tell him, after that."  
Abelas sighed.  
"Of course you couldn't.", he said gently, pushing aside his anger. He would have to be content to add this to ever-growing list of Fen'Harel's grave mistakes instead of bashing man's head against a wall like he wanted.  
"I thought it over.", Ellana said, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "If he had stayed with us, it would have cost his redemption to him, and we would have had only a ghost of man. Or he would have left at some point, and then it would not have been just me left behind. I couldn't do it to my baby. I couldn't risk it. If the baby is born immortal, she is still merely a toddler when my days end, and she should not be made to rely on someone who puts his duty before her."  
"So you asked Elgar'nan.", Abelas said. Her words cut him, but they were true. He had been such a father to her, and he knew the cost. Duty was blood staining the stones around Well of Sorrows, and a heartbroken cry behind him as he left the Dalish camp behind.  
"I asked Elgar'nan.", she said, holding her face between her hands. "I don't know if I did the right thing."  
"We may never know.", Abelas told her. "But you have made your choice, and we will live with it. The important thing is not to look back, but forwards. Second-guessing our choices is like picking open an old wound. It only makes it worse."  
"Yes.", she said, and wiped her tears on the napkin. "It only makes it worse."

 

The majority of Halamshiral elves passed through the eluvian, with Crows and sentinels guiding them forward, and Ellana was last one to go with Abelas.  
"Are you certain you will not come?", she asked from Briala, who was standing alone near the entrance to ruins beneath Halamshiral.  
"I will not. I can't abandon the elves of Orlais now."  
"You understand what they will do to you after the news spread out?", Ellana pressed. "You would do better to come with us."  
"Where are you going, then?"  
Ellana shook her head.  
"I cannot tell you. The shemlen will get information from you as soon as they catch you, and it could ruin us all. We are leaving somewhere the shemlen cannot touch, to live in peace and gather our strength for a war to come. That is all I can say."  
"War? With humans?", Briala asked.  
"No. Against the Blight, and those who created it in the Void."  
"That's crazy, and you know it. Why should I escape the war you have caused, just to die in another war I have nothing invested in?", Briala's voice was sharp with hatred. "I will stay and try to save those elves who will pay the price for your massacre in Winter Palace."  
"You of all people know that sacrifices must be made.", Ellana replied. "You sent one of your oldest friends unarmed in a trap to face a Venatori assassin simply because she knew about your affair with Celene. I offer you safety and future, and if you are not brave enough to accept, I will not force you to jump into unknown. Just know that you cannot choose which parts of our past you want. At some point, you have to choose whether you believe all of it, or nothing."  
"Are you threatening me?", Briala asked, and Ellana saw Abelas taking a step closer.  
"No. I am merely telling you that if you do not come now, you are truly on your own. We will not come back to save you or anyone else, and you won't be able to use eluvian network. I'm going to close it."  
"You can't.", Briala said. "We need it."  
"Shemlen will find you eventually, and we cannot afford losing the eluvians to enemy. It was a joint decision by me, Elgar'nan and Fen'Harel."  
"Stop calling them shemlen like some arrogant Dalish in woods! They're humans, and you are not gods, no matter what you call yourself. Imshael called himself a spirit of choice, but it didn't make him any less a demon. Eluvians are not yours, they are mine, and you can't just take them away. I have dozens of people using them, and if you imagine I tell you the password simply because you ask, you are sorely mistaken."  
"I _am_ Dalish from the woods, Briala, and more, now.", Ellana replied. "And I don't need your password. I ask you one last time; will you come with us?"  
"No.", Briala spat.  
"Farewell, then.", Ellana said, and turned to step through eluvian. From the corner of her eye, she saw something metallic flashing in the light reflecting from the mirror, and Abelas moved to counter it. There was no sound except a soft thump of somebody falling, and then a smell of blood invaded her nostrils. Ellana kept her face towards mirror, not wanting to see Briala dead.  
"It is better this way.", Abelas said, cleaning his knife with a rag. "She would have been a liability."  
"Once I looked up to her, thinking she could make a difference to our People.", she replied sadly. "It was too much for her, when it came. She wanted a radical change, but change like the world she knew. She wanted elves becoming equal with humans, living with them in human society. It could never be, but it was all she could imagine, like most elves of this age. Not everyone is ready to jump into chaos, and they will never learn to fly. Those willing to put their trust with us are dreamers, idealists, rebels and the most desperate of elves."

 

As they stepped through, Ellana locked the eluvian behind them with anchor, and moved meticulously from one mirror to another, repeating the act on each of them. Like most things in Elvhenan, eluvians had been restricted by class. The network which connected Elgar'nan's temple to Mythal's temple and Arlathan to Golden City, was a separate from one Briala had used. The two sets of eluvian networks were connected only by a single mirror, which luckily could be opened and locked by anchor. It was a key, like Dagna had said.  
"I suggest we should leave the mirror leading Kirkwall open, so Fen'Harel can go and get June.", Abelas said. "He will be helpful in repairing the magical circuits of Arlathan, and you must withdraw into Fade soon enough."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean that Fen'Harel can count. Even if you are not the type to show early, the dates simply don't match. When the baby is born, he will realize Elgar'nan was still in that box when you became pregnant. Also, as the leader of your sentinels, I do not recommend being pregnant during a war. The risks are too great. Why to choose something so dangerous when you could simply withdraw to another world through the eluvians, like the Dalish mothers did, but choose a world where time flows faster? You could have your baby before Arlathan rises, and everyone would be safer for it."  
Ellana looked at him, astonished.  
"I had not thought it that way."  
Abelas sniffed.  
"That is why the maturity is set to 450 instead of fifteen or thirty, da'len. Although you try to make reasonable, informed choices most of the time, sometimes you overlook the most crucial details. It was your luck that Elgar'nan decided to rat you out, even if he did it simply because he enjoys watching you squirm."  
"I do not squirm, father.", she said icily.  
"It's not what his sentinels say.", Abelas replied serenely. This was a minor complication to plan, yes, but he could not deny that he was pleased. He could imagine his childhood home in Arlathan filled with voices of children, with _life_ and _happiness_. A well-earned reward for their servitude, finally.  
"You are a horrible person, Abelas", his daughter snapped, the tips of her ears fiery red. "You let everyone think you are stoic and joyless golem but inside, you are a terrible man who enjoys teasing people."  
"I love you, too.", Abelas said, messing her hair fondly.

 

\--

When they were nearly finished with their task of closing the eluvians, she sent Abelas with a message for Fen'Harel. There was no use avoiding what had to be done; things didn't generally become easier if one postponed them.

Abelas had suggested that she would withdraw to same place where she had recovered after Mythal had taken her. It was safe, sheltered world, away from prying eyes and time flew quickly there. Ellana had spent six weeks there before she had felt stable enough to answer Morrigan's summons, and Cole had told her only four days had passed on Thedas. Five, maybe six months she needed would be little more than two and half weeks away from her People and their great work. It would scarcely be enough for others to raise Arlathan from the bottom of the lake where it lay and start repairing June's machines. She was not necessary for that task, not before it would be the time to insert her orb in the heart of city and lift it off the ground.  
All in all, it was a good plan, but she was still very nervous as she waited in the Crossroads for her love.

Although Ellana still believed her choice had been for the best, the hardest part was still to come. She knew that her nature was secretive, and opening up had never been easy to her. Lying didn't come naturally to her either, and lying to Fen'Harel about something like this was.. She didn't think she could bear to do it, so skirting around the truth was her only option. Hopefully he would be stricken enough to provide his own answers instead of asking too many questions.

 

When Ellana saw his tall form entering through the eluvian, her first impulse was turn around and run. It was childish thing to even consider, so she stayed where she stood, trying leash her anxiety.  
"Solas.", she said, the name slipping from her tongue and betraying her nervousness. It still was more natural to her than calling him Fen'Harel.  
"Vhenan.", he said, his eyes full of warmth when he looked at her. "I expected you some time ago. I thought you would arrive with Elgar'nan and Halamshiral elves. The settlement in Brecilian Forest is empty now, and the People are camping around the lake where Arlathan was sunken. Everything is going as planned."  
"I had to close the eluvian network. Briala.. didn't make it.", Ellana said, feeling the panic rising in her throat. She was so close to slipping the words out, telling him the truth, but she couldn't. She _couldn't_.  
"I'm sorry. I know you wanted a different fate for her."  
"I wanted to talk about your plans. After the wedding, you spoke about redemption and rebuilding Elvhenan.", she said quickly. "After Arlathan rises, we must decide what kind of society we will build with our People and I would be happy to assist in any reforms you might have in mind."

She had always loved him most when his speech became animated, the sheer strength of his conviction shining behind every word. Ellana listened Solas speaking about how the People would embrace what they truly were, how the Veil would be removed, and about Elgar'nan's pledge not to allow slavery into Elvhenan ever again.  
"I still believe that any group of leaders can easily be corrupted, and we should use these early years to plant the ideals of equality and freedom in the minds of the People, so they will not act like chattel. The rest of the pantheon must simply accept the change after their release, because it has already happened. War always breaks static social structures, and gives opportunity for freedoms which are unattainable in any other circumstances, and I believe the war against Blight can be used to reconstruct our society if we play our cards right.", Solas explained, gesturing with his hands.  
"You are right.", Ellana said, feeling her weight on her heart becoming heavier. Seeing him like this hurt, because this was Solas' true nature, his inner self which was so carefully kept hidden under the polite, calm demeanor. She could see his spirit in every word and gesture, burning brightly with ideals of change and rebellion, and she understood only too well why so many of oppressed slaves of Elvhenan had looked upon him as their savior. She would have, had it happened in her lifetime.

So she asked another question, postponing the inevitable for a while longer, because every word he uttered was yet another nail on the coffin of her dream. Her dream was smaller one, a personal wish, which moved like butterflies under her skin. It would not change the fate of the People, or if it did, it would only do them wrong, because redemption and rebellion had one thing in common. Neither of them could be done half-heartedly. Both goals had to consume the lives of their heralds entirely, if they were to have any chance of success, or the change failed like Briala's dream because she had been held back by her own definition of her duty and her inability to leap into unknown.

Yet another question, although she didn't really hear his answer. She needed it simply to harden her resolve. She replayed her memories from the Crestwood glade to remind herself how Solas had once walked away because he felt he had to do it, then the disastrous wedding and Solas' speech about his redemption when she had met him to appraise whether she could tell him about the baby. Ellana's very best judgement revealed only the same truth it had been then. She could not go through another breakup in the name of duty, not for a third time. And even if she could, she couldn't do it to her baby. This was for the best. Even though it hurt.

 

"Is something wrong, vhenan?", Solas stopped his speech suddenly, looking concerned.  
Ellana licked her lips, gathering her courage. She wanted to weep for the lie she was going to tell, because it was still a lie with every intention to mislead, even if every word she spoke was true.  
"Do you remember the last time when we were here? We spoke about not asking for more than we could have, because it is only way for us to be together in these circumstances.", she began.  
"I do.", he nodded.  
"Do you still think so?", Ellana asked. It would almost be easier if he said no.  
"Yes.", Solas answered. "I know you were nervous about the ritual. It must not have been easy for you. Not magically and.. not otherwise, either."  
"I have to admit that having public sex in front of Orlesian court was not something I ever aspired to.", Ellana remarked. "Not one person present understood what was the problem. You ancient elves are indecent lot, and Zevran's cult is nearly as bad."  
"Ours is merely a different culture, with different rules.", Solas grinned. "It is only fair that something in our beliefs makes you as uncomfortable as your beloved Dalish make me."  
Grateful for his attempt to lighten the discussion, Ellana snorted.  
"You think I got away lightly compared to all dirty curses we have about Dread Wolf?"  
"I wasn't there to see, so I can't compare, but yes.", Solas' eyes twinkled.  
"What? You can't complain you were not there to watch!"  
"I enjoy watching you work magic.", he said innocently. "And other things."  
"I'm.. It's bad enough to _do_ it. I'm certainly not going to let you _watch_ if I'm having sex with someone else.", Ellana exclaimed, feeling blood rising to her face. Was making her blush for embarrassment some kind of sport to ancient elves? First Abelas and then Solas.  
"When I was younger, I didn't just watch.", he said, his words smooth and calculated. "Usually I _joined_."

By the time she could breathe again, he was holding her by shoulders and wiping the tears of hysterical giggling fit from her face.  
"I'm sorry, Ellana. I know I shouldn't have, but you were so nervous, and I thought it would do you good to let the tension out."  
"You are every bit as horrible as the rest of them. You just hide it better.", she said, but there was no sharpness in her words.  
"You might be right.", he admitted with a smile. "But to get back to our original topic; there was something you were telling me before I led you astray."  
"Yes. I have locked all the eluvians except one leading to Kirkwall from this network. Abelas suggested you should get June and then lock it, too. He could help with the repairs.", the words came easier now. "Now that the ritual is done, I have to leave elsewhere for a time. Little longer than two weeks, maybe three."  
"I see.", he replied carefully.  
I doubt you do, Ellana thought, her newfound gaiety disappearing again.  
"The ritual succeeded so well because there was a catalyst.", she said, dreading the moment. It was cowardly to hide behind magical terminology, but she didn't know how else to put it and not to lie, but avoid telling the truth.

Ellana could see the moment he understood her words. There was a quick flash of something vulnerable and sad, but he hid it quickly behind a serious smile. Was it a bit forced? She could not tell.  
"It was not unexpected.", Solas said slowly. "A shrewd choice, considering you are a mortal who had to unlock a foci."  
"Yes.", she said, not knowing what else to do. This was going just like she had planned. Solas was supplying his own answers, and it made her feel horrible.  
"Are you happy?", he asked. "I know you wanted.. a child of your own. It was impossible not to see it, the way you cared for Morrigan's son."  
"I don't know.", Ellana said, crossing her arms around herself and not meeting his gaze. "I was, at first. Now I'm not sure."  
"Elgar'nan is quite horrible but he was a decent enough father.", he said, and she heard the hurt in his voice. "When we were in Skyhold, I thought what it would be like. It was foolish, I know, and I came into my senses soon enough. Had I been something else than what I am, I would have wanted to share that with you."  
Had I been something else than what I am. There was no holding back her tears now.  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Please, don't let my unthinking words to ruin this for you.", Solas begged, pulling her into his arms. "This changes nothing between us, vhenan. I love you."

She cried only harder.

\---

 

Three weeks later (Thedas time)

 

 

 

Elgar'nan had always seen pain as a possibility. It was not something he actively sought to experience, not like Andruil, since he vastly preferred pleasant physical sensations to unpleasant ones, but it was one of the easiest gateways for a Dreamer mage to step through. Pain was a door which could lead to several feelings. Fear. Anger. Desire. Vengeance. Determination. All those feelings were strong enough to make the most stubborn men and women lower their barriers even if they didn't want to. If one was to endure great pain, he had to close his eyes to all other sensations, to ride the waves instead of drowning under them.

 

He thought Ellana had done a respectable job so far. Enduring was something that family excelled at, the father and daughter alike. It made their line excellent servants of Mythal. But it could not be denied that slight, narrow bodies of modern elves were not well suited to giving birth to a child who clearly was a bit more robust than babies of this age. Elgar'nan had seen the birth of his twins, but he didn't recall the event being as bloody and painful as this one, or nearly this long. He had been here for most of the night, and whole thing had started early yesterday morning. When she still had spoken, Ellana had mentioned something about not having such a hard time with her son, but for last hours, she had been eerily quiet, turning all her remaining energy inwards. The pain made her eyes glaze over, and she felt tense like a bowstring when Merrill finally decreed it was time.  
"Lean against him and concentrate, gather your strength.", Merrill commanded Ellana. "This is it, lethallan. It's easier than facing Corypheus. You have done it before, you can do it again."  
Elgar'nan took a good hold on her, and closed his eyes to minimize distractions. Physical contact made sensing her emotions easier, and she trusted him. Elgar'nan had no intention to betray that trust, but he had been a fine player of the Game in his day, and since he had granted her a boon of becoming the father of this child soon to be born, there was a price to be paid for that. Any moment now. A pain was a door, and greater pain meant wider door.  
He could feel her muscles tensing, and he marvelled at feeling of her body growing taut. Although Elgar'nan liked curvy women like his Mythal, the Dalish had certain savage beauty and grace he admired. Reminded him a bit of Kossith he had created for breed an army for the war against Forgotten Ones, except Kossith weren't pleasing to look at.  
Waiting patiently like a snake in the grass, Elgar'nan listened at Ellana's heavy breaths, and her heart racing.  
"I'm not sure if I can do this.", she said, in a moment of despair and weakness.  
"Of course you can.", Elgar'nan told her. "It's just pain."  
"I can't take more of it.", Ellana almost wept.  
"I will make you forget.", Elgar'nan said, reassuring her. "You will only remember the good parts."  
Then it came. His opening. She screamed, and pain ripping through her flesh opened her mind wide. Elgar'nan's magic surged inside her consciousness, searching through her memories. There it was.  
"Forget.", he whispered in her ear, and let the pain wash away her memory of discussion in Halamshiral where they had spoken of Fen'Harel and baby. Then everything related to Fen'Harel being the father of the baby. Elgar'nan had not forgiven Fen'Harel about the box, his rebellion or ruining the People with his stupid Veil. He was notoriously _bad_ at forgiving things.

"It's a girl.", Merrill said, and Ellana fell against Elgar'nan's chest, her strength exhausted. Her eyes were closed, and she was barely conscious. Exhaustion of body, and mind. Magic had that effect.  
"Give the baby to me, and attend your mistress.", Elgar'nan commanded.  
"But baby should be washed, and--", Merrill tried to argue, but Elgar'nan was not going to listen.  
"Give her to me.", he repeated, and Merrill hurried to do as she was told.

 

The baby was still covered in blood and vernix. Good. Elgar'nan turned his back to Merrill and Ellana, and carried the baby through eluvian, then along empty corridors of his temple until he reached the holy pool in the courtyard. She mewled quietly, pressing herself against his chest to search for warmth, and Elgar'nan hummed under his breath, letting the familiarity of his voice calm her.  
He waded deeper in the pool until the water reached his waist, and then bent to dip the baby in the water, washing her clean. She had downy hair all over her head, and it was ginger. Of course. Elgar'nan chuckled with amusement. He had long ago noticed that Fate loved irony. The baby opened her eyes, looking wide-eyed at him. Her eyes were blue and confused. Stormy blue, like Fen'Harel's.  
"Don't worry.", Elgar'nan told her. "Colors are a minor problem, easily fixed. It won't hurt a bit."  
He placed his hand carefully on baby's chest, marveling at the softness of new skin, and whispered the incantation of numbing spell. He waited for a moment, testing the spell with a gentle tap on her knee, but the baby didn't notice it. Satisfied with results, Elgar'nan activated the runes carved into inner edges of the holy pool, one by one. Ellana had not been wrong when she noted that Elgar'nan used the water in his temple mostly for swimming and sexual pursuits, but it was merely his fancy, not the purpose why the area had been built so. Not every reservoir of magic needed to be called "Well of Sorrows" to work.  
The runes flared, and the water in the pool started to glow red. Elgar'nan could feel his magic whispering in the water around them, and focusing on the baby, he carefully pushed her under the surface, supporting her head. Like all babies, she instinctively held her breath underwater, and when Elgar'nan saw the runes flashing over her skin, he knew it was done.  
He lifted her up again, and placed the baby against his shoulder, patting her back to make sure all water she might have swallowed got out. She coughed a bit.  
"My lord. Fen'Harel is here.", Senris announced from the door.  
Elgar'nan let the runes die, and started wading towards the edge of the pool.  
"Let him in.", he answered.

 

The sentinels escorted Fen'Harel to temple courtyard, where Elgar'nan was dressing a baby. His own robes were dripping wet, but he seemed to be on excellent mood. It was generally worrying, but understandable in this situation. Fen'Harel had never thought Elgar'nan to be proficient with baby clothing, but considering his vanity and the sheer scope of his wardrobe which was rumored to take entire floor of his temple, it should not have surprised anyone.  
"Is this.. her? him?", Fen'Harel asked.  
Elgar'nan looked up, with the strangest little smile on his lips.  
"Yes. Her name is Siona."  
The God of Vengeance twisted the ribbons attached on little shirt into neat bowtie and said:  
"Would you like to hold her, Fen'Harel?"  
Fen'Harel accepted the baby from Elgar'nan, and looked at her. She had a little bit of silvery hair, and the eyes looking at him were blue. She looked like his father, which was only to be expected, but there was something.. Fen'Harel had the oddest feeling of having missed something vitally important.  
"I have been thinking, Fen'Harel.", Elgar'nan said. "I have decided to give up all thoughts of vengeance I harbored towards you because you put me in that box for over three thousand years."  
"I have to say I'm surprised.", Fen'Harel replied carefully. "It is most unlike you."  
Elgar'nan smiled, looking at Fen'Harel holding Siona.  
"I wouldn't say so. This day has given me an ample reason to put all that behind us. Now, if you will, could you take her to Ellana through my eluvian? I expect she is eager to have her first good look at her baby, and I want to change dry clothes."  
Fen'Harel nodded, clearly not quite knowing what to make of Elgar'nan's goodwill, but then Siona made a small noise to draw attention. As Dread Wolf turned his gaze on the baby again, Elgar'nan smiled beautifully, saving the scene before him with his most treasured memories.

Elgar'nan had always loved a perfect revenge.


	19. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The theme of this nice and peaceful chapter is choices and consequences.
> 
> Andraste guides Dorian.  
> Kallian listens to stupid rumors and gets good news.  
> Abelas is happy.  
> Ellana suffers a minor a culture shock.  
> Varric learns that writing smutty books about real people might not have been such a good idea.

"A heathen god-baby. Can you believe it?", Dorian shook his head. "I was wondering if there was anything left of Lavellan herself, but she is gone. My best friend is gone. No sane woman would voluntarily agree to have a mini-Elgar'nan!"  
Andraste fingered an elaborate golden spear she held in her hands and said:  
"Like I said, Herald has reached above herself. I will not allow this to come pass. You must be my weapon in the service of Maker, but we need more information. Tell me, Dorian. Tell me everything you know of these elvhen gods."  
"But shouldn't we talk about the Chantry, and how to make Divine Victoria--"  
"Silence.", Andraste's voice had an harsh edge which made Dorian feel frightened. "They are not important. They are empty people, without gift of magic, and no use to me."  
"So you were a mage, like Imperial Chantry teaches?", Dorian dared to ask.  
"I have always been a mage.", Andraste told him. "But we must prepare. Focus. Elvhen gods, and everything you know of them. Tell me how they think. Tell me what they feel. Tell me what they dream."

"The elves will try to lift the city of Arlathan back to sky. You must foil their plan.", Andraste said to Dorian. "Your slave did well to restore Magrallen; fuelled properly, Magrallen can be used to keep Arlathan on the ground, where it is easy to conquer."  
"Fuelled how? I know Titus used the blood of the dragon, but I don't have enough.", Dorian asked.  
"Dragons are nothing but the form reserved for elvhen gods and their chosen. Some of old blood lingers still, although diluted, which means we simply require more of it.", Andraste's lips whispered. "Hunt down the elven slaves. They are, as they have always been, a necessary sacrifice for our glory in the eyes of the Maker."

 

"Dorian. Dorian."  
He startled awake, still kneeling in front of Andraste's statue.  
"I know you find solace in your faith in the Maker, but your wounds have not healed yet.", Cullen said, hand still on Dorian's shoulder. "You should be in bed, not praying until you fall asleep."  
"I've had trouble sleeping lately.", Dorian blurted out.  
"It is no wonder. I read your report about Halamshiral.", Cullen said. "I'm sorry you had to see that."  
"Shouldn't you be sorry for everyone who died? I survived, at least.", Dorian tried to summon the old sarcastic tone from happier days.  
"Surviving is sometimes the harder option. After what I experienced in Circle Tower, there were days I wished I would have died. Torture can break a man. Being the sole survivor of a massacre is worse, because one starts to question his own worth. Why he survived, while good men died, and could he have done something to stop it. I was afraid to go to sleep for month afterwards.", Cullen's voice was quiet and honest, and touch of commander's warm, human fingers on Dorian's shoulder made him want to crumble. Genuine sympathy had never been a common luxury in Dorian's life.  
"I don't want to pressure you, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'd be happy to help.", Cullen said, and took his hand away.  
Dorian couldn't answer, because his eyes were prickling with tears held back.

 

"The reports from Halamshiral are terrible. It was a massacre.", Leliana said. "My people have confirmed that Dorian was the only human survivor, but I'm still not sure how he got out. He claims that he saw a manifestation of Andraste who led him to safety. He also says that Andraste is unhappy with her Herald, and wants Dorian to lead Tevinters to Arlathan forest to kill the Inquisitor."  
"Do you know what this sounds like, dear?", Vivienne, the Grand Enchanter of newly established Circles of Magi, asked. "Delusions. Ancient demon marked Dorian as his slave; it is only natural that the other slaves of that demon would not attack him even though they killed everyone else. Demons are very territorial creatures."  
"Or an inside job. This Elgar'nan was the one who killed the humans in the palace. Maybe he wants to get rid of the Inquisitor, and is encouraging Dorian to do for him.", Leliana said.  
"Both options are possible. We don't have enough information to act on it, yet. Dorian has told us that he wishes to go back to Tevinter.", Cassandra mentioned.  
"I think you should let him. He is a liability, now more than ever.", Leliana said to Cassandra.  
Cassandra sighed, adjusting the high hat of Divine on her head.  
"He has suffered terribly, and I want to believe he was saved by Andraste. His faith is real enough, but I cannot be sure. This might be yet another ploy by demons. If he is blessed by Maker, I would do wrong to keep him from his task.", Cassandra said. "I will send him back to Tevinter, but with an escort. Cullen and a group of his best templars, those who have experience in fighting with demons. If Maker truly asks this from us, we must answer."  
"A good choice, my dear.", Vivienne said. "With your permission, I would like to send some of the most devout mages from Circle with them. The elven demons are all mages, and one should fight fire with fire."  
Cassandra nodded resolutely.  
"Leliana, we should also check the Arlathan forest, and any other places the elves might have gone. Josephine is beside herself, she cannot believe what has happened."  
"I've already sent my agents to north, and I expect a word from them any day now.", Leliana said. "Poor Josie. She has too much faith in people."

 

\---

 

The People camped in Arlathan forest were having a hard time getting used to recent changes. First Fen'Harel had made them to abandon their homes and travel through an eluvian to Tevinter, of all possible places. Then only Elgar'nan had returned from the journey he had taken with Mythal and their sentinels, and wild rumors had started. Mythal was dead, captured by shemlen, imprisoned somewhere.  
The elves were nervous and frightened. Although Fen'Harel and Elgar'nan were Creators, obeyed and respected, they kept their distance, relaying orders through Elgar'nan's sentinels or leaders of camp settlements. Mythal's presence in their lives had been concrete, something which all of them could understand. If one prayed for her help, she answered. She had killed the Tevinter slavers and guided her People to safety through the green mists of Beyond. Everyone had seen the Breach on the sky, which Mythal had healed when she had still hidden her true identity, letting the shemlen call her the Inquisitor. She had bled for her People, fighting for their freedom, and her People loved her. She was their Great Protector, their Mother, why would she abandon her People now? Where was she?

Then Fen'Harel had brought a simpleton dwarf through eluvians, and announced he was June. June, the God of Craft! There was no way a god of elvhen pantheon could be a dwarf, and the Dalish muttered silently about the trickster taking his lies too far, especially the ones who wore June's vallaslin. Abelas, the most faithful of Mythal's servants, had explained that June had not been born into pantheon, but adopted to it after being raised as a child hostage from the early wars with the Forgotten Ones. The Dalish wailed even more; half of their Keepers were still missing, locked away somewhere where Fen'Harel had taken them, and the male Keepers remaining to them were finding the thought of Forgotten One dwarf as their god of Craft impossible to explain. Because if it was true, and June was truly a god, would it mean that dwarves belonged to Forgotten Ones? Were the dwarves their ancient enemy? Why June did not speak but a single word? What use was a god without no magic but his enchantments?

The rumors grew. Fen'Harel had locked the Keepers away, because he was a brother to Forgotten Ones, and they had turned June into a dwarf when he had found out about their evil alliance with Fen'Harel. Elgar'nan had slain Mythal in his rage because she had fallen for Fen'Harel and planned to marry the Dread Wolf. The shemlen had captured Mythal, made her Tranquil and locked her inside the Circle of the Magi.

 

"No, Mythal is not dead. Elgar'nan has not murdered her. Believe me, if she was dead, we would know.", Kallian said for the hundredth time that day. "Yes, my sentinel training is going well, I have no need of money or chocolate, and I'm not going to accept any kind of bribes from you to tell where Mythal is."  
"Yes, all sentinels assure me that June is a dwarf, and has always been a dwarf, but he is still the God of the Craft. No, they are not playing a joke on me. Does Abelas look like he would make jokes about Creators?"  
"No, you have not been asked to gather around the lake tonight because Fen'Harel is going to summon a horrible serpent who would eat your children, but because Elgar'nan has ordered you to do so. Mythal takes it personally when you spread shitty stories about Fen'Harel. If I hear you saying anything like that again, I will hit you on the head. What do you mean I can't? I can, and I will, if you don't keep your mouth shut about Dread Wolf. It's a religious act done in service of Mythal. Ask any Keeper if you want, I'm not lying."

 

"They are driving me mad, Abelas.", Kallian announced grumpily as she entered the armory tent. "I have spent whole day answering endless questions and denying rumors. I doubt there was any real purpose in making me to stand in guard for Creators' elks except giving people chance to bother me."  
"I never said there was.", Abelas said.  
"So you admit you did it purposefully?"  
"Everything we do, we do for her.", Abelas said serenely. "People needed reassurance, and they see you as one of their own, unlike us. It can be used as our advantage."  
"I swear, I should have been a Warden instead. Killing darkspawn is easier than being a sentinel.", Kallian muttered.  
"You still have time to change your mind.", Abelas studied her with his golden eyes. "Merely some days, because Mythal said we could hold the initiation ceremony as soon as Arlathan has been repaired and rises again. But giving yourself into service of a god is not something which should be done lightly, and if you are uncertain, you _must_ back out now. One can't leave the service, once the duty has been taken up."  
"I was joking, Abelas. A bad joke.", Kallian said. "I know what I want. She didn't fail me, and I won't fail her."  
The faith written all over her bare face made her almost beautiful. He had been right; she was ready. Kallian Tabris would be a worthy addition to group of his brothers and sisters, first one to join for a very long time.  
"Now that you are here, we should leave to meet Mythal. The Creators are going to bring back the city of Arlathan today, and they require Mythal's assistance."  
"Where is she?", Kallian asked.  
"Elsewhere.", Abelas answered simply. Kallian rolled her eyes behind his back and followed him as they left the tent.

 

Abelas had never thought to feel such a pride as he did on the day he held his granddaughter and watched his da'len joining her magic with other Creators to bring back Arlathan. The People had been ordered to gather around lake, safe distance away.  
"Look.", Abelas told Siona as Elgar'nan, Fen'Harel and Ellana called up their orbs. They stood on opposite corners around the lake, forming a triangle. They joined their magic in a song of perfect harmony, like a hymn long forgotten, which burned in Abelas' blood like home hearth. Their spell gathered strength, and the golden ropes of light twisted and flew across the lake, diving in and out from the water.  
"Look.", Abelas whispered again to baby he held as the first of crystal spheres broke the surface of the water and power vibrated in the air like living being. "It's the Tower of Sun, the highest point of Arlathan. That is Tower of Somniari, and the crystal spheres on the left belong to Temple of Mythal, where I was initiated."  
Slowly, the golden ropes were pulled taut, and the water from the lake rose as the city was lifted upwards. Abelas was standing close enough to see the black mist of power darkening Fen'Harel's eyes as he guided the floating city towards an empty area which had been cleared for this purpose, and he made a mental note of attending the Dread Wolf later. The immense power would leave them all vulnerable, and Abelas had a personal interest in Fen'Harel's welfare since he didn't have sentinels to watch over him. Fen'Harel was a member of Abelas' household, now, and would be entitled to live in his house. It was clearly stated in the contract Fen'Harel had signed, on page twenty-four which had clauses about children.  
"Enchantment!", June jumped on his spot, clapping his hands together in glee.  
The elves had been silently watching their gods working magic, but when the city of Arlathan landed in front of them in all it's glory, they fell on their knees as a sign of respect. And Abelas, his heart filled with happiness of returning home, bent his knee to his daughter, gladly.

 

\---

Ellana had never thought she would one day walk on the streets of Arlathan. She had seen some parts of it in Mythal's memories, but remembering things someone else had experienced was not like reading a book. She couldn't pick and choose; certain events made memories rise to her mind like dreams, and she had no control over them. Mythal's presence had changed after Elgar'nan's arrival. Before, Ellana had to fight not to be drowned into Mythal's memories and try her hardest not to become overwhelmed, but as soon as she had met Elgar'nan, Mythal had became quiet. It had been months since her last bad day, like Abelas had called them, and Ellana was not complaining. She found it odd, and maybe a little worrying.

"Fen.", she began as they turned around a corner of a street. "It just occurred to me that it has been a very long time since I had any problems with Mythal."  
"It's true.", Abelas remarked. "The last time I remember was just before Fen'Harel left to Anderfels. Now that you mention it, it is odd. You were getting steadily worse as the bond faded, but after Elgar'nan arrived, there has been no new episodes."  
"One would think it has something to do with Elgar'nan, but accepting it as an answer before looking into other possibilities is rarely wise.", Fen'Harel said. "I will look into it as soon as the city is safely in the air. It's a pity water ruined so many books in my library, but some of them can be salvaged."  
"The city survived much better than I thought, considering it was hidden in the bottom of a lake for thousands of years.", Ellana mentioned, pulling the fabric of her sling to keep sun from shining into Siona's eyes.  
"It was a stroke of luck that the last elves fleeing Arlathan had a wisdom to sink the city when they understood Tevinter would conquer it; the magisters would have robbed it bare and destroyed what they couldn't take.", Fen'Harel replied. "Of course, there was not much left to steal due the infighting between factions."  
"I was pleased to see our house was still intact.", Abelas said. "It's refreshing change to see something has _not_ changed. It is much older than me."  
"I am older than you.", Fen'Harel noted.  
"I wonder why it doesn't feel like you are.", Abelas said dryly as he stopped in front of a gate. It was wrought to look like a dragon, and he pulled off his gauntlet, pressing his hand against the metal. The dragon's eye flashed golden, and the gates opened.  
"I will add you to spell, later.", Abelas nodded towards Fen'Harel. "I expect you will sleep here anyway, and I prefer not to wake up every night to open the gates for you."  
"What about me?", Ellana asked.  
"The gates were enchanted to recognize our blood. You can come and go as you wish. Dragon kills all outsiders who try to pass the gates.", Abelas mentioned like it was the way gates usually worked.  
"It might be a good idea to warn people before they try to enter a nice-looking house to move in.", Ellana said slowly. She had a lingering suspicion that figuring out this one house, not to mention whole Arlathan, would not be a simple task.  
"You are right.", Fen'Harel said. "We should steer them away from priest and noble districts. The lower classes could not afford lethal protections."

After a tour in the house, Ellana was mortified. It was not a house, not like she understood the term. Abelas' house was a size of a mansion with enough rooms for a medium-sized Dalish clan to live in privacy like shem nobles and it was filled with luxuries which had never even been heard of in Winter Palace. Abelas walked her from room to room, pointing out things which she barely could comprehend. Fresh water just came from a silverite pipe when one turned a bolt. She had understood that, but then he had pointed out another bolt marked with fire rune, which warmed the water, and it was supposed to do that whenever she wanted and continue practically forever. A room for receiving guests had been grand enough, but then Abelas had touched the dragon motif on the wall and she had seen a how golden writing started to appear on the walls around them. It was an inscription of last conversation recorded in that room, word to word. There were hundreds, no, thousands of them retained in the memory of the room. The very idea of rooms having memories was unsettling, although Ellana could see the practicality of it. Josephine would have paid a fortune for a spell like that.

Siona started crying at some point, saving her for being overwhelmed by more rooms and more things she didn't understand. Ellana was relieved to excuse herself and withdrew to garden in inner yard. There was a large tree and lush grass around it. When she sat down on the grass, leaning against tree trunk she felt acutely, for the first time, the true depth of what had been lost, and her own inadequacy. Of all modern elves, she was the one who was most prepared for this. She was carrying one of the Creators inside her soul, and still she couldn't figure out how to turn on the lights in a room. It was..  
"It's beyond pitiful.", she said to Siona, who paid her no attention but continued nursing.  
"What is beyond pitiful?", Fen'Harel asked, coming to sit next to her.  
"Us. The elves like me.", Ellana said. "Once I couldn't understand why you scorned the Dalish so, you and Abelas both, but.. "  
She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.  
"We don't even have houses. We live in _aravels_.", the anxiety in her voice was undeniable. "One winter was particularly harsh for my Clan. We were in south, then, and game was scarce. Nehran was old and grizzled, and couldn't hunt. When the food stores ran low, he told the da'len that he was going to gather firewood from the forest, and they should not worry, because Falon'Din would look after him."  
Fen'Harel closed his eyes for a moment. He knew where this story was going.  
"He knew one less mouth to feed would mean better chances of survival. It was my job to go looking for him the next day, to plant a tree and do the rites.", Ellana said. "And Abelas tells me this whole city has a _climate control_."  
"I can understand magical mirrors and lost temples, and I can accept flying cities, but houses are worse.", she shook her head. "It's the little things, the practical everyday things, which really point out the difference. What you are, and what I am not. What my people aren't."  
"Don't think it like that.", Fen'Harel said. "The people you brought here will learn. Reclaim their birthright."  
She knew he was wrong. The children born to immortality would surely learn, but her people.. There simply wasn't enough time.  
Siona had finished her meal, so Ellana pulled her blouse down again and put the child on the grass. Fen'Harel studied the infant.  
"I thought she would scream more, but she seems quite calm and happy. Very unlike her father."  
"No properly cared baby has a horrible temper.", Ellana said firmly. "She has no reason to be unhappy. Her needs are seen to, and Abelas dotes on her. It's rather sweet."  
"What about Elgar'nan?"  
"What about him?", Ellana asked, clearly curious.  
"I mean.. He is her father.", Fen'Harel tried to find the right words.  
"Siona is Dalish. A mage child, probably. She has only one parent.", Ellana said like she was explaining the simplest thing in the world.  
"I didn't think it that way.", Fen'Harel said. He didn't find many things to admire about the Dalish, but he had to admit that he was pleased to hear this. The very existence of baby was still a sore spot for him, and he did his best to accept the thought, but not having to deal with Elgar'nan on daily basis would help enormously. If God of Vengeance stayed on the background, looming over them like he was wont to do but not being actually present, maybe Fen'Harel could get used to this new situation.  
He tentatively brushed his fingers against Siona's face. There was no reason to transmit his dislike towards Elgar'nan to this child, who had done nothing to deserve it. She was surely innocent despite having such a father.

 

\----

"This is bullshit.", Varric Tethras, a renowned author and businessman, said and threw a book against the wall of his office in Hanged Man.  
"There is no way to please some people.", Varric said to Isabela. "Half of the Inner Circle of Inquisition have written back to me demanding corrections to Inquisitor's Tale. This was from Dorian. He complains about sex scenes."  
"Too racy for him?", Isabela asked lazily.  
"No! He wants my readers to know that he would never agree to be bound in his bed by hemp rope, but silk, and demands more detailed descriptions of his beauty. There was some shit in elvish written on every page featuring Solas, but I couldn't understand it. If Daisy hadn't ran off with that cult, she could have translated it."  
"There is no way to please some people. You should just accept it.", Isabela said, cleaning her nails with a dagger. "Fancy a tankard to help with pain of creation?"  
"I'm paying?"  
"Of course."  
"Make it good one, then.", Varric sighed.

Varric was reading a letter from his publisher who was asking if he had already started writing his next book - how they expected him to do that without any inspiring people around him, he didn't know - when Aveline approached him with four Grey Wardens.  
"Well, this is a surprise.", Varric said. "I didn't know you had recruited Wardens to City Guard now."  
"I haven't.", Aveline said, her face looking unhappy. "The Wardens wanted to meet you, and the Viscount ordered me to escort them here."  
"You are Varric Tethras, the author of Keeper Takes His Staff, Swords and Shields, The Touch of Divine, Parting Her Veil and Take me, Abomination?", the senior Warden asked.  
"Yes, but please keep your voice down. They are not my best books and I don't care to advertise. If you want good stuff to read, you should buy Hard in Hightown. Besides, weren't you Warders banished from Southern Thedas?"  
"Kirkwall is in northern Thedas.", the Warden replied dryly. "And the Inquisition is no more."  
"I stand corrected, then. How can I help you?", Varric asked, putting a polite smile on his face. It never hurt to be nice to only people who could save you from grisly tainted death. One of the Wardens was behind his back now, reading the names of the books on the shelf.  
"On the authority granted to us by Grey Warden treaties, I hereby conscript you, Varric Tethras.", the Warden said.  
"What?", Varric exclaimed. "You can't be serious. I know you may not like Conscripted by Love, but I changed all the names!"  
"The Wardens can take whomever they deem suitable. First Warden thinks you are suitable."  
Oh, shit, Varric thought. They meant business. He reached for Bianca, but the Wardens must have been prepared for that, because the one behind him hit him on the head. The last thing Varric saw was Aveline's sad, apologetic face. Red looked more horsey than ever.

 

 


	20. Magrallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.
> 
> The Game continues. This round, our heroes lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the official end of part 2, but like I promised, I will continue writing part 3 in the same file.
> 
> Soundtrack for this part is "If you love these people" from Man of Steel by Hans Zimmer. Especially recommended for the Dalish ride.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTdHU4bMeSI
> 
> I think this chapter turned not out to be as angsty as chapter 18 - you are probably happy for that - or maybe it's just because I wrote the angsty bit weeks ago and I'm already numbed to it. This is the father- daughter chapter, I think. The family of Abelas has been especially gifted in one thing, and that's halam'shivanas. The sweet sacrifice of duty, which doesn't taste so sweet anymore.

Weisshaupt fortress was just full of surprises. Varric Tethras had never thought to meet the First Warden. Varric had heard the rumors of man's aloofness and heavy-handed meddling in Anderfels politics, and how he held himself apart from his Grey Warden brothers, leaving the Warden-Commanders to make their own decisions. But none of the rumors had ever hinted that the First Warden was a woman. An elven woman, standing in front of the fireplace.  
"You have brought the dwarf?", she asked.  
"Yes.", warden Stroud replied.  
"Varric Tethras, your friendly neighborhood storyteller at your service.", Varric nodded with a bit forced smile." I'm happy to give you any information you seek, but I fear that if you wanted a Grey Warden to conquer back the Deep Roads, you're sadly mistaken. I'm not a hero. I merely have an uncanny luck of meeting heroes and writing books about them."  
The woman smiled. Her face would have been beautiful except for the unbecoming pallor all old Grey Wardens seemed to share.  
"You may leave us.", First Warden commanded. "On your way out, tell Warden-Commander Loghain I will give him the further instructions for his journey to Tevinter now."  
Stroud nodded, clicking his heels together and leaving.  
"I have to say I'm curious to hear what do you want of me. I understand you might have been insulted by Conscripted by Love, but we all make mistakes. It was never my best-selling book, and there is no need for such a drastic actions like conscription.", Varric said in his confident voice. "I'm sure we can come into agreement without any Grey Wardening."  
The elf looked at him like he was an insect.  
"You really have no idea, durgen'len.", she shook her head.  
"I'm always happy to be enlightened.", Varric offered. He had survived decades of dealings with dwarven Merchants' Guild; he only needed to figure out what made the elf tick, and he would be on his way back to Kirkwall.  
"Observe.", the woman said, crossing her hands behind her back. "There are quills and paper on the desk. You may wish to keep notes."

 

"First Warden.", Loghain greeted the elf woman as he entered the room, pushing the door shut behind him. Varric saw a glimpse of guards standing behind door and sighed. He had not thought his chances of escaping Weisshaupt were good, but non-existent was worse.  
"I have gathered a group of ten wardens, including Thom Rainier as you instructed, and we are ready to travel to Tevinter as you requested.", Loghain said.  
"Good.", First Warden replied. She took a map from the bookshelf and spread a map open on Varric's desk.  
"This is your destination. Arlathan forest in east Tevinter. Precisely, this spot here.", the woman pressed her long, black nail against the parchment. "A sizable force of faithful servants of Imperial Chantry are marching there as we speak, joined by smaller group of templars and mages sent by Divine."  
"I didn't know there was a war going on.", Loghain said. He didn't like being surprised, that much was evident.  
"You do not need to concern yourselves with the battle. I have that in hand. Your task is different: I want you to retrieve someone for me.", First Warden said. "Do you remember the Inquisitor, Loghain? The elven woman with ability to close the rifts."  
Varric held back a curse behind his teeth. He should have known it.  
"I do.", Loghain replied warily. "I have heard tales of her being.. changed. I'm not sure if I believe them."  
"I want you to observe the battle between elves and Tevinter men.", First Warden said. "I have arranged things so that she will likely appear on the battlefield. Look closely, and wait for your opportunity. Bring me the Inquisitor. Alive, if you can, but dead will suffice. As soon as you have her, put this around her neck, and bring her to me. We need her for our war effort."  
The First Warden took something from her pocket and dropped it on the table. It was a pendant made from bloodstone and shaped like an owl, attached to short chain. It was fine work, but nothing fanciful. Loghain nodded, the dislike clearly written on his face, but took the pendant and put it in his pocket before leaving.

 

"Although I have written that book, I assure you, I was never close to the Inquisitor. We had disagreements, and using me as a lever to get her is hopeless. You should have gotten Chuckles if you wanted that."  
"One word more and I will cut your tongue out.", First Warden told him. "I have no use for your speech, dwarf. You can do your part without a tongue."  
Varric wanted to ask what his part was, but decided against it. She seemed almost disappointed for his silence, her feral grin turning into annoyance.  
The smaller door in the back of the room opened, and another elf walked out, carrying a silver chalice. He was a tall blond male, dressed in mage robes, and shared same sick pallor as the First Warden.  
"I made the mixture, but we have ran out of archdemon blood.", he said, not sounding pleased. "The idiot shemlen Clarel used it all up with her little coup."  
"It doesn't matter.", First Warden said and took a dagger from her belt, pricking her finger with the blade. She squeezed a few drops in a cup, and turned to Varric.  
"No, thank you.", Varric said, pushing his chair backwards. He stood up, retreating hastily, but he bumped against yet another elf who was blocking the door leading to main corridor. This one was a man as well, with a single dark braid falling down his back. Unlike the others, he was not dressed like a Grey Warden, but wore black robes embroidered with silver thread.  
"I have heard you are Andrastian, dwarf.", First Warden said, advancing on him. "The shemlen say that the Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens, as no sacrifice is greater than theirs. You are to be blessed indeed."  
"I believe in Andraste, yes, but I don't need your blessing.", Varric said, looking for an exit.  
"Get on with it, Andruil. I'm tired of watching you play with your slaves.", the blond man snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"As you wish.", the woman replied, sounding irritable. "I'll cut this short." She pulled Varric to him, with bruising strength he had not expected from her, and pried his mouth open with her fingers.  
"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.", First Warden intoned, skipping the words of the ritual. She pinched his nose shut with her fingers and forced the vile-tasting liquid down on his throat. Varric gagged and tried not to swallow, but it was either that or suffocation. Her grip was like iron, and he felt the disgusting oily mixture sliding down his throat.  
As soon as he had swallowed it all, the woman pushed him away so hard he fell on floor. The world was spinning, and Varric felt really bad. It was way worse than any hangover he had ever experienced.  
"I hope you survive.", Andruil said, looking at him. "There is a lack of proper writers in this Age, and this story needs to be told right."  
"Doesn't it bother you to use same dwarf who immortalized Fen'Harel's tryst with his mortal lover? And she didn't even need to tie him on a tree.", the dark man said mockingly.  
The blond man snorted, like he had heard a joke.  
Varric saw the woman's face flush in anger, and he felt almost grateful when he fainted.

 

  
\---

 

“I know this change is hardest for you, but you must be strong, you must be proud. You are my People, and I will not abandon you alone on this long road. You never abandoned me.”, Mythal told the Dalish who had gathered around her. Loranil thought she had never looked as kind as now, her eyes filled with warmth and concern as she sat on the edge of fountain in a market square.  
"We try, Mother, but it is hard.", one of the hunters admitted. "We know nothing of this life. There is no game to hunt, and all that we were, all our skills, are useless."  
"You are wrong, lethallan.", Mythal's voice was quiet and comforting. "Your skills are not meaningless. After Arlathan rises, and our home is safe from the shemlen, you must teach your skills to da'len, to prepare them for the war against Blight and those who cast me down. Our future lies with our children. They are hope of Elvhenan, who will carry gifts of magic and immortality."  
"I will do as you say.", the hunter bowed his head and stepped back.  
Many of the Dalish had been surprised and relieved to find out that the reason why Mythal had been away was not because she would have left them, but because she had a baby. They couldn't’t quite understand how it was possible in such a short time, but like Mahariel said, maybe divine pregnancies were different. Mythal's baby was a real child, quietly nesting in a sling against her mother's chest like all Dalish infants did. Motherhood suited her, and the Dalish adored her for it. To serve a Creator was one thing, but to see a little goddess grow up was something else entirely. It was a promise of better future they all understood.  
"The city will rise soon.", Mythal promised the Dalish. "Others are working on repairing old magic, and in few days, you all will be safe."

 

"You did well with the Dalish.", Fen'Harel said to Ellana. They were sitting on the rooftop of a crystal tower which used to house the Dreamers of Arlathan. The crystal was worn, partially broken, but the view was magnificent for elven eyes, even in the dark. The lights of Arlathan would not ignite before the city was safely floating in the sky, but the dim light of the stars was enough to see the city sprawling under their feet.  
"I hope so.", she replied, dangling her feet over the edge. "The change is hard, and I feel as clueless as they are. Trying to get used to Abelas' house is worse than when I became the Herald. Wearing shoes, living in a house, sleeping in bed. I think I was better at playing a shem than an ancient elf. Melana wants me to visit the temple later tonight, to prepare for Kallian's vigil."  
"Are you going to brand her?", Fen'Harel asked, not wanting to hear the answer.  
"No.", Ellana said. "I don't want to do that ever again. But Kallian says she wants it, to be like other guardians, and says she trusts me with her life and will. Having someone to believe in me so blindly is a frightening thing, Fen."  
He pulled her closer to him, enjoying the feeling of her warm body against his side.  
"Being Mythal was easier without a temple and followers. I still find it hard to believe when Abelas tells me stories of my childhood in the Arbor Wilds.", Ellana remarked.  
"When I woke up after my long slumber, world was odd, frightening place.", Fen'Harel said quietly. "I had expected it would be different, but I had always imagined it would be better. All the good things we had; arts, magic, beauty, but none of the bad. Smaller communities with leaders chosen for their talent and honesty, not nations led by those corrupted by their power. I hadn't had much experience with humans before, but suddenly they filled the whole world, and had shaped it into their image."  
"Life seemed very simple to me when I grew up.", Ellana told him, leaning against his shoulder. "It was very ordained among the Dalish. We didn't need to change; merely endure. Ever since I got my magic, I knew what kind of life I would lead. I would preserve what scraps we had, and serve my clan with the best of my ability. I would have children, and give them away. But there was warmth, a sense of belonging, unity. I miss my clan, still. It was once my whole world."  
"In my village, Creators were like heroes from a story. Elgar'nan and Mythal lived in the golden city in Beyond with their children, while the ordinary people dwelled on ground.", Fen'Harel said. "We were free, but not privileged. Farmers, mostly, and merchants. The magic was small, practical tricks, not great feats of glory. My parents couldn't understand when my magic came to me. They had expected I would pick up their trade instead of following my calling. My mother was very disappointed at my decision of leaving the village after I had exhausted the Fade around it, and there was nothing for me to learn."  
"You have to tell me the whole story at some point.", Ellana said. "What did your family do?"  
"They were artists, decorating the houses for the wealthy and powerful.", Fen'Harel replied. "I liked it, and was somewhat talented, but the life was never enough for me."  
"It makes your frescoes even more valued gift for me. I'm sorry for having lost them with Skyhold.", Ellana admitted. "It is curious to think you as a child. You were so sure of yourself when we met, in control. I felt like an uncertain student compared to you."  
"Had we met then, you would not have spared one look at me.", Fen'Harel claimed, looking at the city under them.  
"Why?"  
"Because you are a temple-bred child, descended from a long line of faithful, while my parents were artisans without a notable family. I was taught to paint while Abelas trained you in the holy dances and prayers for Mythal. I imagine you would have been a priest, like him, favored by your goddess."  
"I could have seen you, and fallen in love with you, all the same.", Ellana offered.  
"I doubt that, my love.", Fen'Harel chuckled. "The separation between castes was wider than the distance between Dalish and the city elves."  
"It will be a high wall to break down. The people are already testing the gates around the city, wanting to see where their blood sings. The implications are dangerous, because they cement what was instead of building anything new.", Ellana said. "What do you think we should do about it?"  
"Have you forgotten so quickly?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"Forgotten what?"  
"We talked about this when you asked me to come to Crossroads."  
Ellana shook her head, wrinkling her brow.  
"I don't recall such a thing."  
"It was before you left elsewhere. When you told me you were with child.", Fen'Harel said.  
She shook her head again.  
"I don't recall anything like that. But giving birth messes with your mind. You forget the pain, and remember only the good parts. Otherwise nobody would agree to have more children after the first one.", she said. "And I do remember when you showed me this place. When we danced in Halamshiral, and you gave me a crown of shadows and stars."  
Fen'Harel pushed away his small worry, and smiled at her. Maybe giving birth was like that, or more likely, their discussion was lost somewhere in the ocean of Mythal's memories filling her mind. He didn't know.  
"It was a lovely night.", he said, kissing her lips. "Much like this one."  
They snuggled against each other, the city quiet and beautiful around them, and they were happy.

 

It was late when Ellana finally arrived to Mythal's temple. Her mind was elsewhere, not paying attention to grand mosaics or the splendor of the temple. She remembered his fingers twining with hers, the familiar scent of sandalwood and rashvine, and the feeling of serene happiness she always felt with him.  
She passed the sentinels standing in guard, and entered the inner sanctum. It was empty except for Melana, who stood in front of the gilded altar of Mythal, her back turned towards her. The room was dim, illuminated by veilfire, and the dragon statue behind the alter looked imposing.  
"What do you have for me?", Ellana asked.  
"Before she possessed you, our Lady decided to have a precaution in case something went wrong. The precaution did not work as intended, so I took it upon myself to act. I took a shred of Mythal's soul inside myself, and carried it here, placing it on her holy altar.", Melana said.  
Ellana felt suspicious as she carefully stepped closer, keeping an eye on Melana. She didn't like the idea of Mythal's fragments being all over the place, beyond her reach to control.  
The fragment was a blur, in form of a wisp, whirling in the air above altar. She reached a careful finger towards it, touching the wisp ever so slightly. It felt like a lightning on her skin.

_A group of shemlen mages, walking through the forest. They wore Tevinter garb, and she recognized Dorian's gaudy mustache. Weeping elves, the blood running red, the pale bodies thrown away after every drop had been drained into a round vessel of magic.  
She saw herself watching the advanced army from the safety of Arlathan's high walls. The city tried to rise, but couldn't. The Magrallen glowed red and violent in the darkness, chaining the Dreamers down as surely as a slave kept check by his master. The fight was bitter, but in the end, the shemlen stormed Arlathan, and her heart wept for seeing the Chantry's sunburst on the white streets running red._

"No!", Ellana exclaimed, breathing heavily as the vision took over her. She felt unwell, the magic coursing violently through her veins. She doubled over, and Melana came to her, holding her up.  
"What happened? A vision?", the sentinel asked, sounding worried. "Our lady had such visions, and they always came to pass."  
"No.", Ellana shook her head, near tears. "It can't come to pass. Not now. Not after everything we have done."  
She pulled herself away from Melana, frightened.  
"Wake up Fen'Harel and June. Tell them to put everything they have to repairing the city, and Abelas should help them with every sentinel who know something about magic which made the city to fly. I have to get Elgar'nan.", she said, and fled the temple.  
  
\--

 

"Is there a particular reason why you dragged me here in the middle of the night?", Elgar'nan asked from Ellana. They had been scouting the forest for hours, now, and the sun was reaching it's zenith. Siona was slumbering against her chest, her pale hair just visible from the sling.  
"I saw something in the temple. It frightened me.", she said, exhaustion clear on her face. Lowering her voice, she leaned towards him, and whispered: "Shemlen attacking us. Tevinters. We lost. We cannot lose now."  
"That is not good.", Elgar'nan said grimly. Mythal had seen limited visions of the future; this was not the time he wanted that gift to reappear, not like this.  
They were accompanied by Elgar'nan's sentinels and a small group of Dalish, led by Warden Mahariel.The Warden was ranging away from the main group, accompanied by few Dalish hunters.  
"If there is anything to be found, I'm sure Mahariel will find it.", Ellana continued. "She was marked for Andruil for a reason, I think."  
"You should know better than place your trust into someone not belonging to you.", Elgar'nan noted.  
"People are not items to be owned, my sun.", she said resolutely. "They have a freedom to choose."  
"You have been talking with Fen'Harel, again.", Elgar'nan rolled his eyes. "Tell me, then, what would you have done without your sentinels? You of all people should know how precious are those who give themselves to you. They are only persons you can trust fully."  
She considered his words, combing away an escaped strand of hair behind her ear.  
"I value their sacrifice, and I appreciate their service more than I can tell.", Ellana said slowly. "Without them, I doubt Mythal could have survived as long as she did. But I grieve for the price they pay. I don't think it is fair. Nobody should be a tool for a god, discarded when no longer useful."  
"But every sentinel chose freely. It is a gift given to you, not something forced upon them. If people have freedom to choose, can you deny them if they wish to use their freedom in serving you?", Elgar'nan asked. "Should you have denied yourself? You, after all, agreed to become a vessel for Mythal, knowing the cost. In Fen'Harel's perfect world, you shouldn't have agreed to that."  
Ellana gave him a dark look.  
"I think I liked you better when you just read smutty books and acted silly."

 

They ranged far to the west and found nothing. The group had already turned back towards Arlathan, and the sun was falling behind the trees, when Mahariel came on her halla, riding like a madwoman. Ellana felt a cold touch of dread in her heart, and swallowed. She lifted her hand to stop the group, and waited.  
"Give me your report.", she said, although she didn't want to.  
"An army of shemlen.", Mahariel replied, breathless. The vallaslin was red on her face, flustered with exercise. "Marching from south, hiding themselves with sorcery. They have a big, magical _thing_. It shines like blood."

 

Elgar'nan could tell the exact moment everything started to taste like ashes in his mouth. The gates of Arlathan were close enough to see, but he and Ellana had withdrawn from the others, to speak in privacy.  
"If we go back, if we put everything in our orbs to lift the city up, we can still do this.", he said.  
"They have something Mythal remembers. She calls it Magrallen.", Ellana said, her face pale and serious.  
Elgar'nan cursed aloud, every single word he remembered. Alas _had_ said his servants had repaired Magrallen. The blighted thing was not Tevinter by origin; the shemlen had not been able to invent anything on their own. Every single artifact they owned seemed to be elven by origin, and it was true for Magrallen, as well. It had been originally built by Falon'Din, from the time he had yearned for more power and decided to gather it by deaths of his followers. Their blood had empowered him, enabling him to control the Fade around him to frightening extent, until the gods had struck him down in his own temple. Elgar'nan still remembered the day all too vividly.  
"Is it bad?", Ellana asked.  
"If they have started killing their slaves to empower it, we will never get Arlathan up as long as they have Magrallen.", the truth rang harsh in Elgar'nan's ears. "We need the power of orbs to fuel the magic; three orbs are not enough to fight and preserve. They are enough for one, but not the other."  
She bent her head down, breathing deeply the milky scent of the baby tied against her chest. One, two, three breaths, and then Ellana slowly lifted her gaze back to Elgar'nan. With firm, decisive movements, she started untying the fabric around her.

"There is no other option.", Ellana said, her eyes very bright as she gave Siona to Elgar'nan's arms, wrapping the fabric of the sling around them with practiced ease. "You can't do it; my days were numbered anyway."  
Elgar'nan swallowed.  
"You know the spell to pull Mythal out when I fall?"  
"Yes.", he said. The word was clumsy in his mouth, hard to utter.  
"Then there is nothing else to say."  
The little shemlen elf pulled Mythal's orb from between and placed it in his hands, bending his fingers around the foci. Elgar'nan could hear the Tevinter men marching through the forest. The sound of their steps was like a thunder, and the infant was mercifully asleep, unknowing.  
"I was.. It was an honor, Elgar'nan. You were nothing like I expected, but I think this was better.", Ellana said, offering him a serious smile. Fen'Harel loved those, he knew. Poor Fen.  
"The honor was all mine.", Elgar'nan said. Solemnly, he pressed his lips on her brow, establishing a shining rope for Mythal's soul to follow. He felt like crying, which was foolish. Ellana was turning away, but he stopped her, holding her by shoulder.  
"I would like to.. Give my blessing, before you go. For what it's worth.", Elgar'nan said. Fenedhis, now he _was_ crying. But so was she, when she nodded wordlessly.

Elgar'nan held his hands together for a moment, and Ellana expected to see something like blue glow when Solas had taken away her vallaslin, but it was not so. Something hot and burning crystallized between god's hands, a small shard much like lyrium yet different. This was colorless. Elgar'nan took it in his left hand, pressing the sharp point against her heart. Ellana's eyes widened as she felt the shard sliding effortlessly through her armor, inside her heart, and it _hurt_. It was cold, like a sliver of ice, melting.  
"For your courage.", Elgar'nan whispered in her ear, and then he walked away, the robes swirling around him like a living fire. He mounted his elk, and gestured to his sentinels, leaving her alone with the Dalish.

Shaking her head to shrug off the peculiar feeling, Ellana turned to Dalish who were waiting.  
"Brothers and sisters, tonight we hold the fate of all elvhen in our hands.", she shouted. "The Tevinter are slaughtering their slaves to power the Magrallen, and keep Arlathan on the ground. If we fail now, there will be no second chances for the People. We all will perish, the Dalish, the ancient, and the city elves alike. There will be no Falon'Din to guide us to Beyond."  
She felt the tightness in her throat, but she held on the staff of Lavellan so hard that her knuckles turned white.  
"I am Dalish. I am one of you. I am the Keeper of the Lavellan, and I know our words. I know our worth. We have sworn never to submit to slavery again. We are unbent, unbowed, unbroken. I will not let Tevinter break us.", she shouted. "I invoke Vir Banal'ras, my hunters! I ask you to ride with me, and break Magrallen to save our People. I ask you to walk this lonely path with me, to Magrallen and Beyond. For we are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit."

\--

 

They had worked for the most of the day, driven by restless worries and nameless fears. Ellana was not one to fear shadows, and Abelas knew from Melana that she had seen something in Mythal's temple which had unsettled her. He had expected Ellana and Elgar'nan to come back by now, and he was starting to get worried.  
"What is that noise? Who is shouting?", Fen'Harel asked, bending over his work. He was almost finished.. There. He placed his orb on the artifact, and the magic started to hum. Elgar'nan and Ellana had apparently done so already, because Fen'Harel could see the lights of the great machine coming alive.  
"It is the Dalish.", Abelas said. "Oh, _no_. It _is_ the Dalish."  
An estranged noise, like a cry of a dying animal escaped from sentinel's throat, and he pushed open the door leading to staircase, starting to run.

When Fen'Harel and Abelas reached the top of the tower, Elgar'nan was waiting for them, holding Siona. His eyes shone with tears as he looked at lights Arlathan waking up after eons of slumber. No. Fen'Harel blinked. Elgar'nan was not looking at the city. He was looking past it. At the edge of the forest.

Abelas saw red glow of Magrallen in the falling darkness. He had never again expected to see that cursed thing, not after the day the Creators and their chosen warriors had stormed Falon'Din's temple. _No._  
The halla running towards it were white spots, and the Dalish were riding them. The sound of loosing bowstrings chimed in the air like a single note, and the arrows rained on the Tevinter mages guarding Magrallen. But the soldiers on right flank had seen the Dalish, now, and they were starting to turn. Abelas knew the maneuver. It was like jaws of a trap closing in. The Dalish would be surrounded by the enemy by all sides.  
"Tell me she isn't there!", Fen'Harel shouted at Elgar'nan. Abelas wanted to laugh. Or maybe weep. _Of course_ his da'len was there. How could she not? She was.. Yes, there she was, leading the charge. He was too far to see her face, but Abelas knew it by the heart. A jaw set just so, stubbornness written all over her features. The blue eyes like her mother's.  
The bows sang for the second time, and Abelas grieved. He saw the jaws closing in, the last ride of the Dalish turning into a struggle between elves and men. Abelas heard Fen'Harel screaming behind his back, and Elgar'nan shouting at Fen'Harel as he held him in iron grip, but Abelas could not speak. He could only watch.  
He saw the elk falling from under her. The human hands pulling her down, a flash of blades in the dark and his heart wept. So close, but not enough. To pay so much, and fail. But his da'len didn't give up. She took her staff, and threw. The white mythalwood flew through the air, straight and fast as any arrow. It hit the glass of Magrallen with force, and the artifact broke in thousand pieces.

\--

She cried out for Solas when Magrallen broke, the freed magic sending an immense wave of power throughout the forest. The shard in her heart was so sharp and cold, and it nailed her down, slowly melting inside her until her blood ran slow like a frozen stream in winter. She dreamed of Elgar'nan telling her that she should not be afraid of death, that death is a glorious thing and she would be free to roam Beyond. She dreamed of Abelas, his face old with fresh sorrow, and Mythal's branches no longer curved on his forehead. He walked from room to room in that empty house, where his dreams of life and laughter were pale shadows in the corners. Siona laid awake in her crib, staring at the ceiling and waiting. But the woman who once soothed all her fears did not come.  
Mythal saw it all, but the goddess turned her head away from Ellana, fleeing back to Arlathan where Elgar'nan stood, waiting. She felt the connection between him and her tightening, to almost breaking point, and then there was a sharp snap. The magic broke, Mythal left her, and she was once again Ellana Lavellan, mortal and alone.  
She turned her head to see how the white city of Arlathan rose rapidly through the air, the lights on every tower and building lighting up like stars after eons of darkness. It was the most beautiful thing she has ever seen, and she watched it, knowing there was a shemlen with a sword in his hand behind her back. And when she heard a swishing sound of a sword, she felt nothing, and her eyes were still staring at the sky when she started to fall.  
"Live well.", she thought. "Live gloriously."

\--  
Abelas fell on his knees as Arlathan started to rise. The movement shook the tower ground. Elgar'nan still stood, watching the fight between the Dalish and humans. There was something in the air, a rope of light slowly becoming stronger. It was just faint brush at first.  
They were rising quickly now, and Abelas tried to see what was happening on the ground, but he couldn't see her anymore. The soldiers looked small like ants, now. But he saw the rope of light growing taunt, almost to a breaking point, and then something whirled towards them. It was a spirit, shaped like a woman, and for a heartbreaking moment Abelas _hoped,_ but then Elgar'nan spoke.  
"Mythal sulevin.", he said, his voice hollow, as he called up his magic. Abelas had to close his eyes. The light was too bright, too blinding.  
"So ended the last ride of the Dalish.", a woman's voice said, sighing softly. He knew that voice.  
Abelas opened his eyes and saw Mythal. Mythal as she had been in the days of the Elvhenan. She had the yellow eyes and black, almost blue hair which curled slightly. He searched for some sign, any trace of his daughter, but found none.  
"Your child is gone, Abelas.", Mythal said, telling him the truth he didn't want to hear.  
"I thought you were.. inseparable.",  
"No, lad. Few souls are truly inseparable, as you know. Duty and death can cut through anything. I would not have placed myself in situation without a way out, a loop in a hole.", Mythal said. "Dying is something I wouldn't want to experience second time."  
"You knew this would happen.", Abelas said, the words breaking something inside him.  
"I didn't know all the details, of course, but I saw bits and pieces. The ways which fate would follow, if properly guided", Mythal admitted. "We started walking on this path long time ago, when a woman got separated from her friends in the heat of the battle and I guided her all way to Arbor Wilds. You were always my favorite, Abelas. I wanted you to have this."

The Dalish had a saying, Abelas remembered. They said that only a fool sought for attention of the gods, because both their wrath and their gifts were to be feared.  
Mythal had kept her word. Her exact word. She had promised Ellana justice for the People, and in return, she had wanted her vengeance against the Blight. Justice had been served, and now it was time for vengeance. His da'len, created only to serve, then left to die. Abelas had always been proud of his vallaslin, seeing it as a sign of devotion, not slavery. _I wanted you to have this._ Have what? This ache in his heart? The blood of his lover staining the stones around the Well of Sorrows? Their daughter crying in the Crestwood glade, asking if she had ever meant anything to him except a sacrifice for Mythal? His da'len leading the Dalish to certain death to save the People, and Mythal, their Great Protector, not offering one word of consolation for their courage, their bravery? Even Elgar'nan had wept for her and her people, but not Mythal.  
"Fen'Harel.", Abelas said, pushing himself up. The bitterness burnt in his heart, steeling his resolve. Elgar'nan and Mythal had left, but the Dread Wolf remained, his body shaking with soundless sobs.  
"Fen'Harel.", Abelas repeated, and the man lifted his head. The naked pain on his face was horrible to see, but it only mirrored his own.  
"I want you to take my vallaslin away.", Abelas said. "I am _through_ with Mythal, now."

 

 


	21. Human justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elves grieve above, while human justice happens below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this chapter 
> 
> The second part, outside Arlathan:  
> Rammstein: Du Hast.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gZ25MYwWpM

Elgar'nan sat curled in his armchair, a colorful blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and ate ice cream from silver bowl. His eyes were red-rimmed as he turned a page of the book he was holding on his lap.  
"What are you doing?", Mythal asked. "What is that hideous thing you are wrapped in?"  
"It's a Dalish blanket.", Elgar'nan said moodily. "They use them when it's cold and they huddle around the campfire."  
"The colors are garish.", Mythal wrinkled her nose in disgust.  
"It was a gift.", Elgar'nan sniffed. "I hate feeling cold. The box Fen'Harel stuffed me into was always chilly."  
"Are you crying?", Mythal asked suspiciously, noticing the ice cream. "What are you reading? I've told you not to read star-crossed romances. You become utterly inconsolable for days afterwards."  
She snatched the book from Elgar'nan, and read the description on the back cover.  
"Hessarian's Spear. Andraste knelt before no man but her Maker, but she hadn't counted on the archon Hessarian. Can Hessarian penetrate the tight-knit defenses of the warrior-prophetess? Will she be prepared to face the full blast of his power?", Mythal read aloud. Something was not adding up here. "What's wrong with you? This is perfectly ordinary book, not something I would expect you to weep over."  
"The sex scenes bored me to tears."  
Mythal narrowed her eyes.  
"You are lying."  
"Go bother June or someone else you haven't seen for ages and leave me be. My ice cream is melting.", Elgar'nan snapped and took his book back. He adjusted the ugly blanket on his shoulders, wrapping it more closely around himself, and opened the book at random page.  
"You already were further than that.", Mythal noted.  
"If you have nothing else to say except criticize everything I do, my sentinels will see you out.", Elgar'nan told her.  
"Why are you so touchy?", Mythal exclaimed. "I thought you would be happy that we are finally together again."  
"I am.", Elgar'nan sighed, putting the book down again. "But right now, I just want to eat my ice cream, read my book, and be alone for a moment. _Please_."  
"All right, then. I will come to see you later.", Mythal gave up. She didn't understand at all what was going on. Senris standing on the guard was emotionless as always, and opened the door for her, clearly expecting her to go. Mythal stepped through the door, and as she walked along the corridor, the silent sentinels in black armor followed her. Her sensitive ears picked up an oddest sound as she passed yet another door; a wailing of an infant, quickly soothed by murmured words.  
When Mythal walked out from the temple and Elgar'nan's sentinels closed the great doors behind her, she heard a heavy bar being lifted on the place. He was clearly serious about wanting to be alone.  
"When did Senris have a baby?", Mythal asked from Melana. "I thought I heard one crying in the temple. Was it the same one I saw after the Dalish charge?"  
Her sentinels looked at each other, and Melana said slowly:  
"She is not Senris' baby. I thought you knew."  
"I know nothing of what happened after the possession went wrong. It was like being in asleep, and seeing only fractures, pictures without sound. Most of them had something to do with Fen'Harel.", Mythal told them.  
Melana looked slightly nervous, and cleared her throat.  
"The baby is Elgar'nan's. The mother was Abelas' daughter."  
"What?", Mythal exclaimed, her voice rising to higher register than was dignified. Burning jealousy spread through her spirit, twisting her insides like Andruil's spear. He wasn't weeping over a bad book. He was weeping over his dead shemlen lover. Lovers were one thing, it was not like she hadn't had those, but a _baby_. He had shamed her in the eyes of their People by begetting a half-bred bastard on a shemlen elf.  
"ELGAR'NAN! To the Void with you! How could you, you blighted wretch!? How dare you? Come out and I will peel the flesh off your bones!"  
Oh, even that ugly blanket. Mythal screamed in wordless rage and ice covered the temple walls, lighting up the protective glyphs carved on the stone.

"Are we going out, my lord?", Senris asked inside the temple.  
"No.", Elgar'nan said, scooping up the last of his ice cream. "I'm not on the mood."  
"I think it was good thinking from you to bring the little lady and her wet nurse here for the time being.", Senris considered the noise coming from the outside, and pushed the window shut. It wasn't enough to block the sounds of Mythal raging entirely, but her voice became a bit more subdued. Senris had never liked it when his eardrums started to bleed.  
"Abelas suggested it.", Elgar'nan replied.  
"I have to say I'm surprised.", Senris admitted. "I thought he would question his daughter's decision and tell the truth to everyone."  
"Abelas is a shrewd man, but more importantly, he is a weapon broken on the altar of his goddess.", Elgar'nan sighed. "Fen'Harel grieves and sleeps, withdrawing away from the rest of us. He hunts alone, like he has always done. He is no use to anyone now, and I doubt Abelas is willing to trust him. He could tell Mythal, of course, but it would mean pledging yet another child to her service, because it is the way it has always been for that family. It is an option he can no longer bear. So it leaves keeping the things like she wished."  
Senris nodded slowly.  
"I see.", he said. "What are we going to do with this?"  
"Nothing.", Elgar'nan answered. "I have no wish to press Abelas into my service; his nature does not suit mine. I gave my word to care for Siona, and I see no reason to back off, now."  
After a short silence, Elgar'nan added sadly:  
"I quite fancied her blushes. And her courage."  
Senris looked at his lord, who had the horrible Dalish blanket wrapped around his immaculate robes, the designs clashing badly enough to cause a headache.  
"I'll bring you another serving.", Senris took the empty bowl from the serving table. "I think we still have chocolate chips and chili we brought from Winter Palace kitchens."  
"Chocolate chips and chili?", Elgar'nan repeated lightly, raising his eyebrows. "Is it so bad, Senris?"  
"It is, my lord.", Senris said, with honesty justified only by his long years of service.

 

Fen'Harel slept in her abandoned bed, tangled in sheets which still held a faint scent of elfroot and rashvine. He dreamed of her, seeking for any spirit who had news of her. It was hard because his orb was bound to magic keeping Arlathan afloat, now, and Fen'Harel could not move physically through the Fade without his foci to anchor him.  
He met spirits who had seen the Dalish fall, and Ellana fall with them. There were faint traces of her presence in the Fade, and it gave him hope.

Then, one night, Fen'Harel felt the anchor returning to him, and he knew what it meant.

"I have to find out what happened. How she died.", Fen'Harel said to Abelas, sitting on the edge of her bed. He felt hollow; words were hard to utter. It was first time they had spoken after Fen'Harel had removed Abelas' vallaslin and returned to Abelas' house to start his hopeless search.  
"The shemlen killed her.", Abelas told him, his voice tired. "Mythal would not lie."  
"I know the roads of Beyond as well as Falon'Din. I could go there and bring her back, teach her to weave a new form from raw matter.", Fen'Harel's eyes were feverish.  
"If Mythal was still with her, yes, you could. But mortal spark of life is too weak and quick. Shemlen hearts beat like a hummingbird, denying them uthenera. Their spirits fall between Falon'Din's fingers too quickly for even him to grasp. Wind blows and everything they were dissolves in the Void.", Abelas said sadly. "I have buried two sons and one daughter. I know this."

 

\--

 

Anders could hear the cheering of the people outside, and it filled him with disgust.  
"Get up, apostate.", the templar said, pulling his chains. Anders stumbled up, hitting his knee at something in the prison wagon. It ached, but his wrists were worse, the flesh raw and bleeding under the chains. He heard the door being opened, and someone pushed him forwards. There were steps, and he almost fell, but an arm steadied him.  
"Maker's breath, take the blindfold off.", another voice said, sighing. "The Left Hand said there should be no question on their identities. We do not need a pretender uprising from either group."  
Anders felt a hand ripping away his blindfold, pulling some of his hair with it. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to bright light of the day.

The Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux loomed over him in the distance. There was a crowd of faithful shouting insults at him, spitting and cursing his soul to Void, and an army of templars guarding both sides of the street. But there were even more shouts calling him a knife-ear demon whore, and Anders blinked again, not quite sure if his last beating had been more severe than he had thought.  
Another prison wagon stopped next to him and the door opened. A woman was pushed out, chained like Anders himself. She was elven and deathly pale, but nobody steadied her fall. She fell facedown from the wagon, and Anders instinctively tried to rush to catch her. His chains and the magebane potion he had been given made his movements too slow, too sluggish, and they both crashed to ground.  
_"Courage!"_ , Justice gasped in his mind.  
His head hurt, and for a moment, Anders saw stars. But the woman was worse; her eyes glazed over, and she slumped against Anders' chest. As a healer, he recognized the sickly sweet smell of infected flesh, but the reason was obvious to anyone with eyes to see; her left hand had been cut off.  
"Bloody blast it!", one of the templars cursed, pulling her off him. The templar slapped her on the face to wake her up, and Anders flinched at the sound. He was badly beaten himself, sporting a number of bruises and a left leg which never healed right after some of the former Kirkwall templars had volunteered to guard him for a night. But seeing it happening to another still made him feel helpless hatred, no matter how diminished his connection to Justice was.  
"Are you blind?", Anders shouted at the templar. "Hitting someone who has already been mauled by Chantry is not going to help her to stay on her feet!"  
He earned a slap which made his ears ring, and his lip split, blood welling in his mouth. The crowd watching them was no longer cheering, but watching silently, and even the templars noticed it. Seeing the servants of the just beating up two chained prisoners didn't sit well with the image of newly formed templar order.  
"You help your fellow apostate, then.", the templar snapped.  
"Wouldn't you make a pretty pair with your demons.", someone from the crowd shouted.  
Anders ignored them as best as he could, and bent down to lift woman's good arm around his shoulders for support.  
"For a fellow apostate, always.", he muttered under his breath, and woman's badly bitten lips curved upwards in a small smile.

The Chantry had always liked pomposity, but this time, they had overachieved it. Anders and the elf apostate were the central part of a great progression leading to Grand Cathedral. There was a Revered Mother reciting a Chant of Light behind them with a group of lay sisters, two dozen templars watching their every move and a group of Orlesian nobles leading the procession.  
"The work of man and woman,  
By hubris of their making.  
The sorrow a blight unbearable.", the Revered Mother chanted loudly.  
"You are not going to repent and beg forgiveness?", Anders asked quietly.  
"Are you?", the woman asked, arching her eyebrows. Her expression was darkly amused, although her face was badly bruised.  
"I don't think so.", Anders said, feeling pleased.  
_"Courage."_ , Justice whispered again, more urgently this time.

The crowd was thickest on the stairs leading to gates of Grand Cathedral yard, and the templars escorting them had to push people away with their shields to clear a passage. Anders found himself pressed side by side with the elven apostate, as the templars shouted at people to make way. Those who had gotten in early to get good spots, weren't happy to lose them to let progression through.  
"Let Justice take over when they do it.", the elf's breath was warm against his ear. "Open your mind and sink down. Play along, no matter what happens."  
Anders looked at her, but her face was distant again, her expression neutral.  
_"She is Courage. Trust her."_ , Justice commanded.

 

Things finally made sense to him as they reached the cathedral yard. A stage had been built in front of the Grand Cathedral, and Anders saw the Lord Commanders of Templar Order standing there, heating the lyrium brand in small brazier. They were marched up the steps and forced to kneel, side by side. Anders could feel the sharp point of the sword pressing against his back when the Lord Commander started to read the charges.  
"Ellana of clan Lavellan, you are accused of letting a demon possess you, pretending to be a Herald of Andraste and using this false belief to rally people under the banner of Inquisition, using Divine Justinia's writ to nefarious purposes, having sexual intercourse with a demon in public--",  
That was a new one. Anders heard the woman next to him emitting a long-suffering sigh.  
"---murdering 72 members of Orlesian nobility, including the Emperor Gaspard himself to fuel blood magic, destroying a priceless magical artifact belonging to Imperial Chantry and refusing to recant your heretical faith. By the order of Divine Victoria, you are sentenced to go through the rite of Tranquility to atone for your crimes."  
So his fellow apostate was the Inquisitor. Or had been the Inquisitor, until they cut off her magic hand. Anders felt pity. He had great appreciation to a person who had allied with rebel mages, but her ending up here did not surprise him in slightest. Chantry would never had accepted a Dalish mage elf as a holy figure.  
"Do you have something to say in your defense?", the Lord Commander asked. Two templars had stepped forwards to hold woman's head on place.  
"Dirthara ma.", she said, smiling. "It is the greatest curse of Elvhenan. _May you learn_."  
The Lord Commander's lips curled in disgust, and he lifted up the brand from the brazier. Anders looked away when the crowd cheered, smelling the stink of burning flesh. The eager chanting of Chantry mothers drowned any sound the woman might have made.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.

 

Foul and corrupt are they

 

Who have taken His gift

 

And turned it against His children.

 

They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.

 

They shall find no rest in this world

 

Or beyond. "

 

When Anders forced himself to look again, the elf was unconscious, her expression a mask of pain. The sunburst of the Chantry shone blistery red on her forehead, marring the pale skin.  
"Let him take notice and shine upon thee, for thou has done His work on this day.", the Revered Mother recited.  
"And the stars stood still, the winds did quiet, and all animals of earth and air held their breath. And all was silent in prayer and thanks.", the templars answered.

Anders spat on the Lord Commander's boots and let himself go. Everything in him which was Anders, sank under the waves of Justice.  
"Anders, a mage from Ferelden Circle, you are accused of exploding the Kirkwall Chantry and brutally murdering Grand Cleric Elthina and countless innocent people, letting a demon possess you, spreading mage rebellion--"  


\-- 

When he regained his consciousness, he was laying on a floor of moving wagon, and his mind was aching with horrible strain. The sunburst on his forehead was incredibly sore. He could hear the voices talking around the wagon, heavily guarded. The elven woman was sitting on the floor next to him and two templars sat on wooden boxes. Their manner was calm, and they seemed much more interested in the possible dangers of outside than the inside of the prison wagon.  
"You have woken up.", Ellana of Clan Lavellan stated in emotionless manner of the Tranquil, pleasant yet empty smile on her face. "Do you require assistance?"  
_"Courage."_ , Justice whispered very faintly in Anders' mind, sounding gleeful, and when the Templars looked another way, the elf winked at him.

 --

Anders had always expected he would see Aeonar one day. It was a Chantry prison for especially dangerous prisoners, suspected blood mages and their accomplices. Templars' task of separating the guilty from the innocent was a very easy one, because the site was structurally sound but spiritually damaged. It was said that followers of Andraste had massacred a group of Tevinter mages there, and the Veil had been thin ever since. Anyone with powerful connection to Fade would eventually attract something from the other side.

Although Anders and Ellana were probably the most famous prisoners in Aeonar, the templars considered them the least dangerous. They were already Tranquil, after all, and there was no need to watch them very carefully. Anders did not know how he had survived with his mind intact, but he had to admit that his connection to Fade was not what it had been. His magic felt weak and wounded, and he wasn't sure if he could have done a single spell, had he tried.

He was given a cell of his own, separate from other prisoners, and two meals in a day. Time passed, day after day, and Anders mostly sat, letting his mind wander, or slept. There was little else to do. He soon lost the sense of time, because he had no windows, and no other ways to mark the passage of time than noticing the ever growing length of his hair and beard. Once Anders had hated the confinement in the dark, swearing he would kill himself than experience it ever again, but now it hardly seemed to matter. It was still hard to think or feel anything.

Then one day the templars came. Two of them, bearded man in his fifties and slightly younger, red-haired templar with freckles.  
"Come on, then. You will have a new room.", the older man said.  
"I do not require new room. My current accommodations are dry and relatively clean.", Anders said monotonically.  
"Yes, but a Tranquil can't keep a whole cell for himself. We require more space; this place is getting filled up and you can share."  
"I do not wish to share. The mages do not like those who have gone through the rite.", Anders replied.  
The templars looked at each other.  
"I don't want to risk blood mages picking on Divine's personal prisoners.", the freckly templar said. "We are busy enough as it is."  
"Let's put him with Divine's other Tranquil.", the bearded man decided. "They should be safe enough together. No need to fear a rape or anything. Divine was rather strict about it."

They took Anders to small cell far away from the main corridors. It had a heavy door, then a short corridor leading to another door, and the templars had to open the doors with two different keys.  
"This will be a good place for you.", the old templar said, gesturing him to step inside. "Divine told she should have some comforts, and you may share them since you both behave well."  
They pushed him inside, not unkindly, and locked the door behind him.  
There was a small rug on the floor, and a bed. A simple table with two chairs and a plain armchair in the corner. Ellana Lavellan sat in the armchair, and nodded to Anders. She looked at the door, and said:  
"I was told there was not enough room for everyone in Aeonar, and I would have to share. I believe we will live in this space in reasonable manner. You may take the bed. The chair is comfortable enough to sleep in. Divine Victoria remembered I never liked to sleep in human beds. Someone would consider the gesture kind, although I find it meaningless, now."

 --

Anders recalled that at some point, the templars started to leave their meals though the little hole in the door, not bothering to enter. There was nothing for them to see. Anders and Ellana rarely spoke to each other, spending most of their days sitting quietly. Anders remembered that the Tranquil in the Circle had taken care of menial tasks, or enchanted items, but they were already a special case, being transported to Aeonar instead of walking free.

One night Anders dreamed, and it felt more vibrant than in a long time. There were colors in his dream, and feelings, which made him weep with their beauty. It was like seeing a coal drawing turned into a brightly colored oil painting. Everything was sharper, more alive, even though the scenery was the same cell he saw when he was awake.  
Ellana sat on her armchair as usually, but she had pulled her left sleeve back, revealing the stump. She whispered words in elvish, and Anders could see her hand changing, becoming whole.  
"It's sad this is only a dream.", Anders sighed.  
She looked up, her blue eyes shining in the dim light.  
"I am a Dreamer mage. I was trained to shape the Fade to alter the waking world. This is not just an ordinary dream. This is where we can talk, and plan, without templars listening behind the door."  
"I thought the rite of Tranquility was final. Irreversible. A spark of magic could bring it back only for a short moment.", Anders said.  
"I was friends with Cassandra Pentaghast once, before she became Divine and I took another burden. The Seekers of Truth have used the rite of Tranquility on their own recruits for centuries. They make them Tranquil, and a touch of spirit restores them. It works on the mages as well, but the order keeps it secret.", Ellana told him. "I wasn't sure, but I expected that a rite of Tranquility performed on one who already is sharing a soul with a spirit, would not work at all."  
"That's why Justice keeps calling you Courage?", Anders asked, thrilled.  
"It's a different with elves. We are more like spirits than humans, but our souls are undefined ones. The spirits of the Fade used to call me Purity. Purity is, however, merely an absence of vice. It doesn't represent anything. I became Courage through Elgar'nan's blessing, I think. I don't know exactly what has happened to me."  
"We embody half of classical virtues, then. What a marvelous achievement for most famous enemies of Chantry in Thedas.", Anders mentioned sarcastically.  
"My opinion of the Chantry has always been low, but after what we have been through, it's downright abysmal.", Ellana snorted.  
"We agree on that, certainly. My connection to Fade is still weak.", Anders said. "It feels wounded, somehow, although it is better now than it was when we were brought here."  
"It will come back with time.", Ellana reassured him. "I was told by Varric that you excelled at escaping the Circle. How do you feel about escaping Aeonar?"  
"I think it is a lovely thought, especially if we can break out the rest of the prisoners, too.", Anders smiled.

They agreed on a plan. Ellana told him about the anchor the Chantry had taken. The magic was bound inside her, and could not be destroyed by simply removing her hand, but the anchor in her palm had been the way for it to manifest.  
"I don't know if I can enter uthenera, but I will try. It will take a long time, but eventually it should repair the damage done to my magic, and Justice can help you to get back yours. If you find a way to heal my hand, I can open a rift inside Aeonar, and we can escape through that."  
"Regrowing a limb is a tall order.", Anders stroked his beard. It reached slightly below his shoulders, now. Templars weren't stupid enough to give blades to prisoners, not even the Tranquil ones.  
"We don't have any other options.", Ellana shrugged. "Nobody knows we are here, and I can't reach my clan above without the anchor."  
"Avoiding Tranquility was supposed to be impossible, too.", Anders replied slowly. "I'm willing to try."

 

 


	22. Elven Heresy Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two prophecies come to pass.
> 
> "One day the magic will come back, all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the sky will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see."  
> \- Sandal
> 
> "We who are forgotten, remember,  
> We clawed at rock until our fingers bled,  
> We cried out for justice, but were unheard.  
> Our children wept in hunger,  
> And so we feasted upon the gods.  
> Here we wait, in aeons of silence.  
> We few, we profane."
> 
> Found scrawled on a wall in the lost Revann Thaig by explorer Faruma Helmi 5:10 Exalted. Unknown author.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. This is a trigger warning. This chapter has a scene with sexual violence, rape non/con to be specific. I have updated the archive warnings to reflect that. It was *not* part of my original plan, but after careful consideration, I have decided to keep that scene because it serves the plot purposes and Templars mistreating the mages in the Circles has been strongly established in DA games. I think some of the templars would continue using their power wrongly after the Circles are re-established, especially when hardened Left Hand Leliana gives them good excuse to do so. War is horrible on both sides.
> 
> I think this is rather strong chapter, plotwise, and therefore worth the nasty parts. Lots of revelations about the nature of Old Gods, Elvhen Pantheon and Forgotten Ones. I especially like the ending, where we see other side of Fen'Harel. The silver tongued trickster-side. And this should be good, because writing the whole thing took me seven hours, which means I get to sleep 4,5 before going to work. 
> 
> As always, the Chantry behaves badly- theme is Du Hast by Rammstein.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzGKsXPBILw
> 
> For Fen'Harel turning into dragon and forwards, Ohne Dich.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwKiHkTFC3A

\--Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux, ten years later--

"We have recieved reports of red lyrium appearing everywhere.", Cassandra said, feeling uneasy. The woman sitting in chair opposite her did not react. She merely sat, her hands neatly folded on her lap.  
"The reports also speak about darkspawn activity in the Deep Roads. King Bhelen is worried, and has made an official plea for Grey Warden assistance.", Cassandra continued.  
Still, she recieved no reaction. Ellana Lavellan simply smiled absently, the sunburst of the Chantry branded on her forehead.  
"Don't you have anything to say?", Cassandra asked, frustrated, although she knew better.  
"What do you wish me to say?", the elf asked politely.  
Cullen had a pained look on his face, and he shifted uncomfortably.  
"What do you think!", the words burst out from Cassandra's mouth. As the Divine Victoria, she had given the order to make Lavellan Tranquil, thinking it was the most humane option of those available. She didn't want public execution, and she was not going to let Tevinter have her as Dorian had demanded, but Orlais had wanted blood. Although Cassandra had lived with her decision for ten years, it was vastly different to see the results in front of her.  
"I do not think very much.", Lavellan replied serenely. "It is hard to find a reason to engage in such action. Eating, sleeping and washing do not require much thought, and they keep me alive, which is generally considered a beneficial goal."  
Looking at Cassandra's stricken face, she added:  
"I thought you would be pleased. I am what you wished me to be."  
"Do you know why red lyrium has spread everywhere?", Leliana asked sharply.  
"Will you cut off my hand again if I do not answer?", Lavellan asked. "It hurt."  
Cassandra grimaced, but Leliana did not flinch.  
"You told Dorian that the Blight was tied to elves, and it spreads when elves die."  
Lavellan hummed quietly under her breath, stopping abruptly when the melody went off key.  
"I no longer hear the song.", she said. "You should ask Fen'Harel. Don't ask Elgar'nan, because he will make you burn, and Mythal will not answer. Can I go?"  
"Yes.", Cassandra replied, her voice colored with regret.  
Lavellan stood up, walking to pair of templars who were waiting at the door.  
"I wish to return to Aeonar.", she told them. "It's quiet there."  
When the door closed after the templars and Tranquil they were guarding, Leliana spoke:  
"It has been almost ten years, but she didn't look a day older. Curious."

 

Sister Nightingale had a reputation of never missing a clue. Her fame was not so much earned by her cleverness, but her tenacity. She did not overlook details; a lesson learned after Solas had disappeared, they had found his supposed home village in ruins, and he had later emerged as an elvhen god. The case of Ellana Lavellan was supposed to be neatly ended, all clues tied up, but it seemed there was something to be yet done. Leliana did not think it was a simply coincidence that the only Tranquil who did not seem to age was the one who had once hosted a goddess.  
"Seeker Mercedent.", she spoke with authority. "You are aware why I have summoned you?"  
The man sitting in front of her in her office was known for his harsh yet effective treatment towards mages; he had been one of the major forces in executing the Elven Heresy Resolution in the last decade after Arlathan's rise.  
"I don't know, lady Nightingale, but I hope you might have more work for me. Every elven mage in southern Thedas has gone through with Rite of Tranquility, now, and my men are hunting down the last Dalish clans in Tirashan forest in the west. The elves without magic have accepted Andraste in their hearts, and those knife-ears who are unsure about the strength of their faith, have recieved the sunburst brand inside their arm to prove their dedication.", the man said, stroking his beard. "I pray for the day we will find a way to storm their heathen city in the clouds, and spread the Chant of Light every corner of the world."  
"I pray for that too, but the day is not yet, sadly. The Black Divine assures me that Tevinter is doing everything they can to research ways to reach Arlathan. They are monitoring the elves, and will inform us if something happens.", Leliana said coolly. "I have a new assignment for you, Seeker Mercedent. Or, from this moment on, Lord Commander Mercedent. The prison of Aeonar needs new Lord Commander."  
"Oh.", the man breathed. "I'm speechless. This is a honor, truly. I will gladly hold my sword against the darkness of most despicable enemies of our Most Holy."  
"The former Commander is required elsewhere, and I fear he has been entirely too lax towards some of the prisoners. My agents give me worrying reports about red lyrium spreading all across Thedas at alarming speed, and Orzammar has began to whisper about possible Blight. Divine Victoria is good and kind, as benefits one led by Maker, but I feel we cannot let some questions stay unanswered.", Leliana said, taking a large wooden box from the shelf and placing it on her desk.  
"I will find answers to any questions you might have.", new Lord Commander replied.  
"This is an elvhen artifact, claimed to measure the strength of the Veil and predict where new tears might appear. The demon called Fen'Harel also claimed that activating these also strengthened the Veil, but our Circles of Magi have not been able to find any evidence of it, or to confirm their effects are beneficial at all. I have decided to turn off all we have found until we find the proof of their true nature.", Leliana said, standing up. "I'm worried, Lord Commander. The elves have lied to us about many things, and I have reason to believe they continue to do so. You have experience in weeding out the truth from their lies."  
"This is grave news indeed. I do not like the thought of having these artifacts in Thedas, since we don't know what they do. Your decision to play safe is wise.", the Lord Commander nodded. "How may I assist you in this?"  
"There are two Tranquil prisoners in Aeonar. Anders, and the elf who pretended to be Herald of Andraste but was later revealed to be the host for one of the demon gods. I think Lavellan knows more than she has told us about these demon gods. Divine Victoria has been gentle to her for the sake of her service in Inquisition, but we must learn the truth about these artifacts, demon gods, and what they are planning. Your first task, however, is to find out what is her true nature. Is she truly a Tranquil, like she should, or is something wrong? She has been in Aeonar for ten years, but still, she doesn't look a day older."  
"I see.", the Lord Commander said slowly. "How far my mandate reaches in this investigation?"  
"With a necessary exception of removing her cursed hand, Divine Victoria decreed that she should not be harmed permanently. I believe that you should use whatever you find most effective, as long as it does not cause permanent damage.", Leliana said. "As for other prisoners, you can deal with them as you see best, with the exception of the second Tranquil. Divine has decided to gift Tranquil Anders to Grey Wardens to strengthen our relationship with them. That friendship was severely harmed during the Inquisition, and more so when the Divine wisely denied Wardens' request to conscript Lavellan. But Anders belongs to them. The Wardens will come for him soon, and you are to escort him to location explained in this letter."  
Leliana put the envelope over the wooden box.  
"I have no further instructions to you. I expect you to report back as soon as you have learned something."  
"By your leave, lady Nightingale.", the man nodded and lifted up the box and letter, taking them with him. Leliana watched him leaving. Divine Victoria would not appreciate if she knew, but it was the job of the Left Hand. To do things so nobody else would have to.

 

  
\--Two months later in Aeonar--

She had not lied to Cassandra when she had said that she didn't think very much. Ellana tried to feel things instead to repair the connection to her magic. It felt essential somehow, to feel. She had tried to enter uthenera, but the constant templar supervision made it impossible to sink deep enough, and she was beginning to despair ever regaining her true self. It was like there was invisible wall between her physical body and her spirit; Ellana could see it moving in the very edges of her vision, but every time she tried to reach it, her fingers grasped only empty air. 

Something changed in Aonar soon after her return. Anders felt it too. For him, it was tension in the air, whispers in the corners which spoke of wrongness and injustice. For Ellana, it was different. When she entered the Fade in her sleep, Aeonar was no longer quiet and sad with resignation. The spirits fluttering behind Veil felt nervous, and even the ever-present demons seemed to wait for something. They followed her from the distance, their visages reflecting fear, desire and rage.  
"Come.", a familiar voice said behind her, and when Ellana turned, she saw an undead horse with sword struck through it's head.  
"Boggy.", she said, feeling ghostly reflections of sadness, embarrassment and shame. "I never came to see you, and then they said you were gone."  
Bog Unicorn looked at her, and said:  
"What was done, is forgiven. Fen'Harel released me, and I am no longer bound. But you are; and I am still your guardian and guide. Come."  
Ellana mounted the unicorn, and the dead horse walked through the walls of Aeonar. After she had lost her hand and most of her magic, she had never been able to move beyond Aeonar. The demons followed them in distance, but they didn't seem to be aggressive.  
"They made me Tranquil. They took my magic away.", she told Boggy. "I can't feel anything. I know what I should feel, and I try, but I can't quite reach it. I don't know why I can still dream."  
"You can't make a spirit into Tranquil.", Boggy answered, walking through the green planes of the Fade. "The problem is not Tranquility; it's your denial of your own nature and what was given to you. You should have had centuries of preparation, reflection and acceptance for all sides of your personality before ascending. You did not have that, and you protected yourself by locking it away."  
The Fade around them was darker, more twisted now.  
"This looks like Nightmare's realm.", Ellana's eyes widened in recognition.  
"I have told you repeatedly that the nature of elvhen does not fit into neat boxes their Chantry makes. Demon is not ethically worse than a spirit; they both define a trait of personality and power which comes with the emotion. The Circle of Magi divides them into good and bad in their simplistic way of thinking. But nothing new can be built before old world has been torn down; new life requires destruction. The world needs light of the sun to grow, but that same light burnt Elgar'nan's gifts to ashes.", Boggy said patiently. "You have always reined in your emotions, trying to rule over them even when it would have been humane reaction to let them reign over your reason."  
"You can't be Courage without understanding and embodying Fear.", Nightmare's dark voice added, and the aspect of the demon stepped forwards, next to Claws of Dumat.  
"I understand why Boggy is assisting me, but why you?", Ellana asked as she dismounted.  
"You will feed me well after you break down the walls of your prison.", Nightmare purred. 

"Physical form is only a figment of imagination. Draw on your emotions. Bend it to your will."  
"Let down your guard. Relish in your feeling. Forget the consequences; they do not matter. They are for lesser beings, those below you."  
"You are not human with concepts of morality; you are a force of nature. Embrace it."  
"Do not think. Just _do_."  
Fear tasted like salt on her tongue, each crystallized grain burning pleasantly. Courage filled her mouth with like exquisite wine, becoming sharper and tempered with a grain of fear. She was the catalyst, of always. She took the emotion, letting it flow through her, and to another. The demons came to her, bowed before her, and she pulled out their essence out, studying it, and then giving it back; making herself stronger, more. Their essence felt like softest velvet against her fingers.  
"Yes.", the Nightmare said, the voice soft in the eerie green darkness of the Fade.  
"Yes.", the Bog Unicorn said, word ranging firm and loud.

 

 

She woke up when somebody slapped her on the face. It was a templar, one she had not seen before.  
"I spoke to you, Tranquil.", the woman said harshly. "You have slept long enough. Nobody needs four days."  
Ellana looked at Anders, who fought to keep his expression neutral as he spoke. He was dressed for travel; wearing a thick cloak and a backpack. There were three templars waiting at the door.  
"Templars have informed me that Divine has decided to give me back to Grey Wardens. I am to be escorted to Anderfels border immediately."  
"I didn't know.", Ellana replied, all hope of their escape fleeing from her. She was not the healer Anders was, and she was so close of regaining her magic, now, with new understanding she had learned from Nightmare and Boggy.  
"No time to discuss that. The Lord Commander has questions for you, Tranquil.", the female templar said. She snapped chains around her wrists, securing the left one tight enough not to slip over the stump, and gestured Ellana to follow.

 

The templars left her alone with the Lord Commander Mercedent. The man was sitting behind his desk, studying all too familiar item mounted on a pedestal near him. It was one of the elven artifacts used to measure the Veil. Ellana sat down on the chair and waited.  
"You were not trained in a Circle.", the Lord Commander said, looking at her.  
"I grew up among the Dalish.", Ellana replied neutrally.  
"A Circle-trained mage knows better than to sit before she gets permission to do so.", the man said sharply. "What can you tell me about this?", he pointed at the artifact.  
"They are artifacts meant to measure the strength of the Veil. They can be used to predict future rifts, but I do not know how. I have never studied these artifacts; they were always Solas' expertise."  
"It says here.", the man pointed at paper in front of him, "that you were trained as a Rift Mage. How can you claim not know something so central to your own field of specialty?"  
Although her feelings were numbed by Tranquility, Ellana felt a tinge of anxiety. These templars were not like former guards of Aeonar, who had let her and Anders be. This one, in particular, was like a hunting hound who had caught a scent.  
"I trusted his judgement in these things, so I never had a reason to learn.", she offered.  
The man smiled coldly.  
"So you admit that you trusted a judgement of a demon your people call Dread Wolf? I should not be surprised, considering the heretical tendencies you demonstrated during the Inquisition. There are eyewitnesses who tell you planted a tree to build an altar for your demon gods, and dedicated the souls of helpless infants to them."  
Ellana licked her lips nervously.  
"Do you know anything else about this?", the man asked, pointing again at the artifact.  
"No.", she said simply.  
"I don't think you are familiar with recent news on Thedas.", Lord Commander said. "Or my reputation. I am one of the most loyal servants of Left Hand. I was personally responsible for the Elven Heresy Resolution."  
"What?", Ellana asked, fighting hard to hide her surprise." What is Elven Heresy Resolution?"  
The templar's eyes were watching her every move and expression as he answered, standing up and slowly walking around the table:  
"It was caused by you, and the threat your demon gods represent. If the Herald of Andraste herself could be possessed by a demon, how much easier it would be for demons to take an ordinary elven mage? Your demons seem to favor the knife-ear race. We came up with solution, and presented it to Divine Victoria and her Left Hand. Every single elven mage residing within a Circle of Magi went through a Rite of Tranquility to become protected. No demon god can reach those good souls now. They are safe in Maker's hands. Every elf residing in the city proved their faith to Andraste, and if they did not convince us, we gave them the gift of Tranquility to be sure. The heretics in the woods were hunted down. And as a retaliation, your demon gods have infected Thedas with red lyrium."  
Ellana's eyes widened in horror. In her worst dreams, she had never thought this would happen to those they had left behind.  
"They did not!", her voice broke and she stood up, turning to face the Lord Commander. "It is your fault! I told Dorian the magic of the People was the only thing keeping the Blight at bay - you have brought this upon yourselves, and us all! You shemlen--"  
"A spark of temper?", the templar said. "Sister Nightingale was right. You are not what you seem. But you are not the first knife-eared bitch I have taught to answer truthfully to my questions."

He pushed her down on her stomach against the table, ripping the neckline her dress. She fought to free herself from his grip, but he was bigger and stronger, holding her chained wrists in front of her.  
She felt his hand kneading her bared breast, and the sensation filled her with revulsion. The fingers were short and thick, foreign. It lacked the familiar bone structure. Everyone who had ever touched her there had the long and slender fingers of an elf, not like this.. brutish creature who dared to grope her like a rutting animal. The difference made her feel violated.  
Ellana screamed in rage, and the Knight-Commander laughed.  
"You may have the brand, but you are no Tranquil. A Tranquil does not feel; she would submit."  
She felt him pulling up her dress, and felt the cold air on her thighs. He was laying over her, his disgusting hairy face scratching her bare shoulder. Ellana thought she would choke under his weight.  
"I heard stories about you in Halamshiral.", the man breathed against her neck. "They say that you sucked the demon god on Gaspard's throne."  
He pushed his armored knee between her legs, his leg guards scratching her skin. Another wave of repulsion filled her mind, burning like sun, when she felt the shem pulling down her underpants and pushing his thick fingers inside her.  
"Dry like the sand on Western Approach.", the shem said, sounding angry. "You don't like me, then?"  
"I hate you.", Ellana screamed.  
The templar laughed.  
"High and mighty, are you? A real man not good enough for your Grace?"  
"You are no man. You are just a mad dog in lyrium leash, like all your kind.", Ellana spat.  
She didn't have time to react, when he grasped by her neck and hit her face against the table. She heard a horrible crunch inside her head and everything turned red for a moment.  
"Your demons won't think you pretty after I'm through with you, witch, if you keep up with the insults.", the man growled as tears of pain filled her eyes. Her nose was in fire, and blood was pooling on the desk.  
He pushed his fingers inside her again, in and out. Ellana's shoulders heaved, and she almost threw up, but they hadn't fed her after she woke up. It had been four days.  
"You have a tight cunt, witch.", templar said. "I'm getting hard thinking how you will squeeze me."  
His touch was harsh and hungry, and Ellana felt the demons pressing against the Veil, drawn to her. She felt the shem's fingers fucking her with rapid movements, and shame burned inside her. The man licked her neck, biting hard, his beard scratching against her skin, and shame turned into ashes, leaving the feeling of disgust which knew no bounds.  
"Good girl.", the shem breathed against her neck when they heard first sloshing sound in the quiet room. Knowing it was physical reaction to protect her body didn't help, and his mockery made her hatred fill every corner of her soul. Her emotions burned bright, barely contained by the invisible wall which kept her from her magic.  
The templar turned her around on her back, throwing the chain connecting her wrists securely around the elven artifact meant to measure the Veil. He was standing between her spread legs, now, and watching her with smirk. There was lust, yes, but it was more about power.  
"My brother-in-law served Count de Rocher in Halamshiral", the shem told her, licking his fingers clean before pinching her nipples painfully. "I will enjoy breaking you."  
He slowly opened the fasteners from lower part of his armor. The stupid skirt all templars seemed to wear dropped on the floor, and the rest followed. Ellana was frozen in place. She could not think, she could not move. She felt like her heart would burst any moment.  
The man was holding his cock in his free hand, now, pumping himself to get harder.  
"Any last words, witch, before I have you?", he asked, looking her in the eye as she felt him pressing his cock against her opening.  
"You are shemlen.", Ellana spat, fighting in his grasp. "A someone like you will not do this to someone like me."  
As she felt the shem push forwards, her fear became a living thing. She cried out for Fen'Harel in desperation. The shem laughed, sheathing himself inside her, but Ellana scarcely heard. The wall between her and her emotions broke, and the chains holding her wrists became white-hot when her magic surged along the metal. Fear was the most primal of emotions, and the raw power of it broke through everything else. The divinity Elgar'nan had given her came over her like tidal wave.

The templar scarcely had a time to notice the elven artifact mounted on a pedestal started whirling at impossible speed, emitting a screeching sound. He saw the chains around it smoking; they were so hot that the metal was turning white. The witch's chained hands were unmarked. Both of them. But she didn't.. They had cut off her left hand. Lord-Commander stopped in the middle of movement, his lust disappearing in instant.  
The witch under him opened her eyes. The sunburst brand on her forehead was sinking inside her skin. The tears she had shed earlier were evaporating on her cheeks and eyelashes, and the templar started to scream when every part of his body touching hers started to burn. He was still screaming and rolling on the floor, trying to quench the flames, when the artifact made a final, inhuman screech, and the Veil _broke_.

 

Anders knew the moment something went wrong. Badly wrong. Justice started to howl inside his head, and the Veil grew taut like bowstring before it just snapped and broke. It was like someone had picked out the yarn holding the fabric together, and it started to unravel in front of Anders' terrified eyes. First Warden laughed with glee, unnerving sound, and turned to elves beside her.  
"Anaris. Daern'thal. It seems that I have a new sister or a brother. Shall we turn back and get her?"  
"I _am_ hungry.", the one called Anaris said, and pushed his hand against the ground. He pulled some kind of power from the earth as the Veil protecting it unravelled, and his form started to change. It no longer looked like an elf; it reminded Anders of the rock wraith they had seen in Primeval Thaig where lyrium idol had been found. It was a bit like dwarf, but much, much taller. Daern'thal was going through the same transformation, while the First Warden just stood there, holding her spear and waiting.  
"Oh, shit.", Varric said, clearly thinking the same thing as Anders. They had made their homework before heading to Primeval Thaig: the dwarven legends claimed that the profane feasted upon gods.

  

\--Meanwhile in Arlathan--

 

Mythal felt irritated. Overseeing the weekly meetings of the pantheon had always been pain in the ass, but lately she had started to wonder if she should stop holding them altogether and simply become a dictator. She was used to her brethren shouting, fighting and occasionally trying to murder each other on bad days, but flinging death curse at someone was at least a reaction. This was just pathetic.  
"..and I think we should prioritize our food production because without eluvians we have no alternative means of acquiring vegetables. Keepers are ready to concentrate on this, but if they do, teaching them to use magic in battle suffers, and therefore our war effort will be delayed.", Mythal finished from her throne.  
Nobody said anything. Her sentinels were quiet also, standing on guard except for Abelas, who was writing down the proceedings in neat script.  
"June?", Mythal asked. It was no use asking anything from June, but he was the least annoying of the three.  
"Enchantment!", the curly-haired dwarf said happily.  
Mythal thought she saw spiteful expression on Abelas' face as his quill started to move on the parchment, but the hood was hiding his profile, and she wasn't sure. Once his mind had been open to her, but nowadays he was a closed book. He had made Fen'Harel remove his vallaslin, and although he could not break his connection to Well of Sorrows, Abelas kept his distance from Mythal. Mythal could have changed it by force, but she didn't want to do that. Abelas had been her most loyal champion for centuries of her exodus, and breaking his will with magic would not have brought that companionship back. She would simply have to wait until he accepted what had happened, listened her reasons and moved on. Sadly, Abelas was not only one whose acceptance Mythal was waiting for.  
"My sun?", Mythal asked, deciding that using endearment might be a better approach. It was not easy thing to say, because she had to look on her left, where Elgar'nan's throne was. She specifically avoided looking at him during their meetings, because it always made her blood boil. Not in good way, like in old days.  
"What?", Elgar'nan asked. He was sitting on his throne, which was better than what Fen'Harel had managed lately, but his advantages over Dread Wolf mostly ended there. Two of them were competing of lowest place in Mythal's affections. Their tactics were vastly different, but both men managed to be immensely frustrating.  
"I asked your opinion on how we should utilize Keepers.", Mythal said, unable to keep the edge off her voice when she noticed the object he was absently turning in his hands. A toy shovel.  
Elgar'nan considered her question, but was interrupted by a tug on the hem of his robes. The baby, who had so far played quietly at his feet, had finished filling a little bucket with sand. Elgar'nan's sentinels had emptied a whole bag of it in front of his throne.  
"Excellent, Siona.", Elgar'nan said with a sunny smile. "Papa will show you. Turn it around like this.", he flicked his wrist and the bucket turned upside down in the air, not a single grain of sand dropping down.  
The baby stared at floating bucket with wide-eyed adoration and aped the gesture. It was mostly wild flapping, like one would expect for a child who was not yet old enough to speak.  
Keeping eye contact with the child, Elgar'nan moved his fingers with grand gestures of stage magician and lowered the bucket slowly on the ground.  
"Now. Listen carefully.", Elgar'nan said, taking the shovel in his hand. The baby followed his example, looking enthralled. The expression made Mythal wonder if the mother had looked at him like that, too, and it made her angry.  
"First for night's silence, second for unity in chains. Third for slave's beauty and fourth for freedom in flames. Fifth for... what remains."  
Their shovels hit fifth time on the bottom of the bucket, and Elgar'nan lifted the bucket up, revealing a perfect sand cake. He applauded, and his sentinels followed suit. Now Mythal was _certain_ Abelas was smirking under his hood.  
"Fill it again and we'll make another.", Elgar'nan said, giving the little bucket back to baby.  
"Why you are you making up nursery rhymes about Old Gods?", Fen'Harel stirred on his throne. He had been sleeping on it, lounging sideways like usually. He rarely bothered to be awake these days, preferring to spend all his time in Fade. For last three meetings, Mythal had made elves carry him here. He had simply curled on his seat and continued sleeping.  
"It's called teaching. It's generally better to learn from others stupid mistakes instead of repeating them.", Elgar'nan answered royally.  
"Wouldn't it be great idea to protect your own power by stashing a part of it inside High Dragon for safekeeping? No, it has nothing to do with my own goals, I swear.", Elgar'nan performed an imitation of Dread Wolf. "After Dragon of Silence and Dragon of Mystery, Dirthamen was useless for centuries since he couldn't even speak until Mythal bailed him out."  
"If you have something to say, I would prefer you were direct about it.", Mythal told him sharply.  
Turning his attention to Mythal for first time during the whole meeting, Elgar'nan looked her into eye and said:  
"Maybe you wouldn't have died so easily if you hadn't given a part of yourself into that dragon. And if you had even once let Dirthamen to solve his own problems instead of always giving him the easy way out and spoiling him rotten, he might not have become so twisted that he murdered his own mother. "  
"You dare to accuse me of spoiling Dirthamen while you bring that brat to Chamber of Ruling and make mockery of everything by spreading dirt around your throne like the most revered space in Arlathan was your bastard's playground?", Mythal stood up, screaming at him. "I swear if I see her in here one more time, I'll break her neck!"  
Baby looked at her, and burst into frightened tears. She cling to Elgar'nan's robes and Mythal grimaced at her although she knew that scaring little children was... Well, childish.  
"Don't you dare!", Elgar'nan's roar shook the mosaic tiles she was standing on. He rose from his throne, pointing at Mythal:  
"If I have to bring Siona here, it's because you sent her mother to suicide mission years ago! Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out? I'm not naive enough to believe that Tevinter shems would just miraculously show up with _Magrallen_ of all possible things, in the middle of the forest which had never interested them, with a perfect timing! You arranged it so that the rest of us were never in any real danger, as long as we sacrificed the Dalish! You brought them here!"  
Mythal was seriously considering killing Elgar'nan, when Fen'Harel sat up on his throne, all traces of sleep gone. His expression was shocked and he changed his shape, shifting into a dragon. The dragon burst through the double doors of the chamber, breaking them off hinges, and Mythal swore. 

"Enchantment!", June muttered angrily as he studied damage Fen'Harel had caused. "Enchantment, enchantment! Into Void with that accursed idiot Fen--"  
They all were staring at June, and they all felt the sharp snap in the world around them. June blinked, not quite understanding what had happened. He opened his mouth again and said:  
"Ench.. Oh, shit. The Veil is breaking down."  
"Activate the barriers around the city. NOW!", Elgar'nan shouted at sentinels who started running. He lifted up the crying baby and said seriously at Mythal:  
"Do you understand what this means?"  
"I do.", Mythal said in small voice, all feelings of anger forgotten. "You will go to war again, but this time, without others at your side."  
She hugged him tightly, not minding Siona who got caught between them and patted Mythal's carefully arranged hair with her dirty hands, babbling nonsense in elvish. Mythal took Elgar'nan's face between her hands and kissed him for first time after their long separation and her death. He smiled, his expression vulnerable and honest for once, and did not let go.  
  


 

\--  
  


 

It had been a long time since he had taken the form reserved to gods and their chosen. Fen'Harel had wanted to rebel, as always, and chosen the wolf for his own. But wolf could not fly, while dragons could, and he wasted no time diving down through the air towards the high reaches between Anderfels and Tevinter. Inside his mind, his thoughts were frantic, shocked. It had been decade since the magic of the anchor had returned to him. She had been dead. But he knew with utmost certainty who had called his name, her panic so strong that it had hit him like a stonefist spell. Fen'Harel had never heard his vhenan sound like that. Ellana was strong. Controlled. Calm. Not someone easily taken over by mortal fear. 

Halfway through his flight over Tevinter the Veil broke. The impact threw him off his course, when the skies opened and magic started pouring in from all directions at once. Fen'Harel screamed in anguish, beating the air with his wings to stay afloat as the demons and spirits fell from the Fade, eager to experience the world without Veil. The High Dragon was highly resistant creature; he was not sure he could have taken such battering in any other form.  
A curious memory came to him; a sunny afternoon in Hinterlands where they had met Mother Giselle tending the wounded. There had been a lay brother chanting, his voice beautiful and deep, while Solas, Cassandra and Varric had waited for Lavellan to finish her private discussion.  
"Though stung with a hundred arrows,  
Though suffering from ailments both great and small,  
His Heart was strong, and he moved on."

Fen'Harel turned again towards west and flew on.

 

As he got closer, he saw a pillar of smoke rising to the sky. The demons and spirits were whirling around it in greater numbers than he had seen anywhere else. The fortress, or what was left of it, was burning, and the smell of blood was heavy in the air. He circled downwards, landing on the fortress yard, and then he saw her. 

Ellana was walking out from the burning ruins, dangling a burnt skull in her hand. It sang with fresh power, tempting Fen'Harel with promises of valor and fear in the hearts of his enemies. Her dress was badly torn, she was spattered with blood, and she cried in quiet, uncontrolled sobs. The mages were following her, the sunburst brands vivid on their foreheads. Except they were not Tranquil. Fen'Harel felt them preparing their spells as he shifted back to his elvhen form and approached, stepping over the templar corpses.  
"Vhenan.", he called, unable to keep worry out from his voice. "Are you all right? What in the Void has happened to you?"  
Ellana's face crumbled and she started crying harder, unable to answer.  
When Fen'Harel got closer, he felt the raw power of her aura, and his eyes widened. Apotheosis, but how?It must have been recent, because she was practically bleeding power all around her. But when he pulled her in his arms, and brushed her hair aside as she wept against his chest, he felt something under his thumb. A slight unevenness, like an old, healed scar on her forehead where there had been none before. There were no words to describe the depth of his anger when he understood his fingers were tracking the pattern of Chantry's sunburst.  
Fen'Harel could not find words to comfort her; his lips were dry and all his clever speeches seemed to gone missing. The mages standing in front of the burning ruins seemed to mirror her emotions in very familiar way, and Fen'Harel felt queasy as he understood why. He held newest member of Elvhen Pantheon in his arms, and the Chantry's lyrium brand had acted as her vallaslin at the moment of her ascendance, magic binding those marked with it to her service.  
But there was one thing more which made him feel thoroughly sick. When he breathed deep, Fen'Harel could smell blood on her, and the scent of heated metal and ashes. But under those smells, there were fainter traces of shemlen sweat, stained with lyrium and sex. He saw the bruises blooming around her wrists, the skin chafed raw by struggle caused by desperation and fear, and when he moved her hair gently aside, he saw markings of teeth, biting deep on her neck. The wordless roar of rage and vengeance escaping his throat would have made Elgar'nan envious. But Ellana cried still, and he let his magic wash over her, healing the bite on her neck, and setting her broken nose straight. Fen'Harel wanted to throw up when he felt his healing spell focusing on bruises and cuts in her inner thighs and between them, but he suppressed the feeling best he could, holding her tighter. He would throw the bastard into Void, and drag his soul through the darkest nightmares he could find in the deepest corners of that place, and give him to Forgotten Ones to feast upon, and only then he would give the shem to Abelas. If there was anything left of him after Abelas, Elgar'nan could have it. Thedas would burn for what had been done to her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a dulcet voice he had hoped never to hear again. He didn't need to turn around to look, because he could carve every angle of that face from memory.  
"Fen'Harel.", Andruil said. "I never thought to find you here, but it would be like you to offer our youngest sister as a sacrifice to appease Anaris and Daern'thal. They are very angry to you because you locked them away. I am very angry about my imprisonment, too."  
"Oh, yes.", Anaris replied. "I have waited to meet you again after that little trick you played on us."  
Fen'Harel could see the shadow of titan falling on the ground over them. Ellana had stopped crying, and Fen'Harel held her tight, pressing her face gently against his shoulder, trying to tell her in every possible way without words that she should be quiet and not to draw attention.  
"You must have congratulated yourself, Fen'Harel, for being so clever. It was ironically suitable to trick us into Stone to lay in wait until you would lead your brethren to hunt among the pillars of the earth. It quieted our hunger, sending us into slumber for years, not waking up even when our own profane guardians started eating us and our people began to hack our bodies into pieces to sell for the shemlen mages.", Daern'thal said dangerously.  
Fen'Harel's sensitive ears caught Varric whispering something about giving up the lyrium trade forever.  
"One fledgling goddess to feed us scarcely makes up for losing so many.", Anaris hissed. "Not even the joy of seeing the Chantry rob the magic from all your People makes up what happened to ours."  
"It was not my doing.", Fen'Harel defended himself. "It was your weapon which tainted the dwarves, making them stilted and small. And the Veil is gone now, as you see. Aren't you pleased? The way to Golden City is open to you once again. Ghilan'nain waits there, sleeping behind the mirror."  
"Do not mention her name.", Andruil's magic lashed at his barriers like a whip.  
"If you kill me now, you will never have her back. I locked her in; only I can release her.", Fen'Harel said with arrogance he didn't feel. "What chances the two of you have against the Creators? You may have Andruil, yes, but Elgar'nan rules once again with Mythal, and you never fared well in our wars when it was nine against nine. Eight against three is laughable."  
"The Stone whispers that Geldauran still lives.", Anaris said. He had always been the stupid one, and Fen'Harel was grateful for that. He could never have misled Czibor or Thelm so easily to giving away their numbers.  
"Still, it's four against eight, at best, and I am not sure on how reliable ally Andruil is while taint affects her mind and we hold Ghilan'nain as a hostage", he said quickly. "Can you even find Geldauran before she starves?"  
"She will feast well enough, _brother_ , because we'll feed her with the marrow of your bones.", Daern'thal promised, stepping closer. The earth shook under his feet.  
"You can do that, but like I said, it doesn't help you. You don't have the numbers. I'm sure Elgar'nan is preparing for a war on this very moment. He will burn the whole Thedas just to get you, and the shemlen will help him the moment they learn you are the cause of the Blight. Your own people will turn against you, and hunt you mercilessly on every step of the way towards Geldauran. Dwarves will never serve the Blight, not after Mythal gives June back to them.", Fen'Harel spoke. His heart was beating fast against Ellana's hand, but his speech was calm, confident.  
"As much as it makes me want to cut your throat open, Fen, I have to admit you are right about Ghilan'nain.", Andruil said bitterly. "But", her voice brightened, "we have no use for the little sister you try so ardently hide behind you."  
"If you raise a hand against me, I will feed you to Nightmare.", Ellana withdrew from Fen'Harel and looked at Andruil.  
"The defiance of youth.", Anaris said, his voice rumbling. "If you have noticed, there is no Veil, and the skies are open. There is no Fade for demons to inhabit."  
"I know.", Ellana said coolly. "That is why they follow me, instead."  
She snapped her fingers, and as on cue, a giant demon started to rise behind the ruins of burning Tevinter fortress. Fen'Harel recognized the aspect of Nightmare whom they had beaten years ago.  
"It has fed well in Aeonar, but it is still hungry.", Ellana told. "I can create more of them easily. Since you dress like Grey Wardens, I think you'd be still interested in that demon army to brave the Deep Roads to search for Geldauran. I have noticed that your control on the darkspawn is not as good as it could be. They have developed an independent streak, lately. Making deals with Mahariel and wanting to become gods in their own name."  
Fen'Harel stepped on her toes before she baited Andruil and Forgotten Ones too far.  
"So, a demon army and an unparalleled guide to find Geldauran, or a hard fight against the two of us, the previously mentioned demon army and Ellana's mages? And I would like to point out that we have this rather ominous foci.", he said lightly, picking up the skull. "It's newly charged."  
Ellana's breath hitched like a sob as she looked at it, but she didn't say anything.  
"Who is this guide you are offering?", Daern'thal asked, his voice unhappy.  
"I was thinking about releasing Dirthamen. As a gesture of good faith towards you.", Fen'Harel said.


	23. The Dalish were right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dalish were right about one thing. Fen'Harel finds out that he is actually prone to bouts of mad giggling in right circumstances.

When Marcus Annius' old master had freed him from slavery, he had considered his options. Life as a Liberati in Tevinter was not easy; many former slaves, especially the ones without magical talent, ended up selling themselves back to slavery. Marcus wanted better for himself. He wanted to save money, buy a house and start a family. All those dreams required that he would find a steady employment, and elves had gotten him started.

  
After Black Divine's coronation, the Divine had proclaimed a new understanding with southern Chantry. Although the Chantries disagreed on the nature of Andraste and her position at Maker's side, Divine Victoria and the Black Divine had decided to join forces to combat heresy of elves and dedicated the reborn order of Seekers of Truth for this very purpose. Watchtowers were built all around Thedas to keep an eye on the demon city floating in the sky, and both Chantries openly supported the new Seeker order which worked to enact necessary safety measures to protect the human population of Thedas. The Elven Heresy Resolution had been a great success in southern lands and Tevinter alike, and signing a contract to serve in the Seekers had given Marcus his chance. After five years of guiding elves to Maker's side, Marcus had been rewarded for his dedication with a promotion to sergeant. He was a member of Soporati class now, which meant he was allowed to serve in military and own property.

Seeing that Elven Heresy Resolution was nearing completion, Marcus had asked a transfer from field work. Since he was a pleasant fellow who got along with everyone and had proved himself to be trustworthy in delicate matters, Marcus had been assigned to watchtower duty in Val Dorma.

Only proof of Arlathan's existence Marcus had ever seen was a load of shit falling from the sky when his regiment had been on a march with templars. He had to lie the number of elves in the questionnaire afterwards, to make up the zero in the part where he was supposed to write the number of survivors. Sometimes it just happened that way. Making everyone Tranquil was a humane idea, but it wasn't really feasible in the long term. Even the Tranquil bred, and who knew if their children turned into demon-worshippers. The vast majority of the elves deemed trustworthy enough to live without Tranquility or other safety measures, watched only by their district Chantry supervisors, were men. It was safer that way.

It was different for the women. Archon Radonius had decreed that the slave owners were responsible for the trustworthiness of their slaves. The Imperial Chantry had it's hands full already, and the nobility didn't like Seekers making house calls to weed out heresy. But the solution was very simple, almost elegant. Some said it was fashionable, too, but Marcus didn't know anything about fashion. He had, like many others, purchased a female elven slave from Imperial Chantry and gotten a partial refund after he went to register the birth of her first human baby to notary. Marcus was a good man, and he wanted no trouble in his household. As a former slave, he wanted to keep everything decent, so he had paid three silvers to a man who specialized in breeding and guaranteed results. Even with the expense, the refund was good enough to earn him a gold archon and two slaves instead of one, when the boy grew up. Maybe Markus' great-grandchildren would see a world of faith and safety, where the Chant of Light was sung from the every corner and Maker returned to them.

The second tower near Val Dorma was not like others. Some of the things were the same, like an enchanted spyglass the resident mage tried to jury-rig to actually see if the elves were floating above the tower. It never worked. But there was one difference which made Val Dorma special enough for two watchtowers and a garrison fully staffed with Seekers from northern or southern branches. The second tower, where Marcus was serving, had a good view to old Tevinter fortress built to mountains bordering Tevinter and Anderfels. Markus did not know why, but the guard routine included keeping eye on the fortress. He had been in Seekers long enough not to ask questions.

 

They were in the middle of changing shifts when it happened. Marcus was the sergeant of evening shift, and he was giving report to night shift sergeant Allidus when the alarm rang. Markus had never heard it before, and his blood ran cold. He looked at Allidus, who looked back, and they both started running.  
"Sergeant!", the recruit on the roof almost cried when they reached him. "Look! It's the fortress. It suddenly exploded in green light!"  
Marcus pushed the recruit away from the spyglass, but he didn't have time to look through the lens. There was a horrible sound. It was inhuman scream, maybe, or a great crack. Some of the men claimed it was haunting song, but they couldn't repeat the tune. Marcus' mind was unable to connect it to anything he had ever heard, but his eyes saw the sky above the fortress ripping apart. It was like someone had plucked a single strand of yarn from a fabric and was pulling it, causing the fabric unravel. Marcus had once seen a picture of the Breach, but this was far worse. As a citizen of Tevinter, Marcus was used to displays of magic, but he had never seen spirits and demons spreading all over the sky at their leisure. A spidery thing with eight eyes was staring at him from the roof of tanner's house, and Marcus felt his hair rising up.  
"It's the Fade. This is Fade on the face of earth.", the mage corporal said weakly, staring at the shining forms dancing in the air above Val Dorma.  
"What will we do?", Allidus asked.  
"Recruit, run to Commander Calidius and wake him up.", Marcus shouted. Commander Calidius was a good man. Surely he knew what to do. Someone had to.

Commander Calidius had gathered the whole garrison to tower yard, sending servants to get those who lived in Val Dorma. He spoke to his troops:  
"This is a dark day. We are facing the very calamity why the Seekers of Truth were rebuilt. Each of you were chosen to serve in Val Dorma because our responsibility here has always been crucially important.", the commander said, his face hard. "We are the best and brightest of the Seekers, because the fortress in the mountains is Aeonar. There have always been those maleficarum who are simply too dangerous to walk free, and both the Imperial Chantry here and the Andrastian Chantry in the south have acknowledged that truth. Aeonar holds the worst offenders on the face of Thedas, including the heretic who called herself the Herald of Andraste before the Rite of Tranquility was performed on her and her demon-cursed hand was removed."  
Marcus was holding his hand on his sword so hard that his knuckles were turning white.  
"Lord Commander Mercedent guards the Aeonar, and I cannot tell you what has happened, because I do not know. But I know Mercedent, who is righteous man. It is our divine duty to march to help our templar brothers and fight at their side to contain the maleficarum. Even the demon gods are just demons, and they cannot possess us."

When Marcus marched up towards the mountain range with his Seeker brothers, he was no longer sure if joining the Chantry had been a good idea to get a living. A shadow fell on him, and he looked up. A high dragon was flying at great speed above them, heading towards Aeonar.  
"Blessed are they who stand before/ The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter./ Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. ", the Seeker marching on his left prayed.

 

\---

The darkspawn were crouching in a circle, eating ravenously when they heard the song. It was so much louder than before, a symphony of sound. Not the quiet echo in the Deep Roads, but a new, bright song, yet untarnished.

  
A hurlock alpha raised it's head, dropping the still warm leg it had been chewing on. The alpha growled to get attention of the lesser darkspawn, and stood up, kicking a genlock out from it's way. The human had been dressed in shiny armor and a red skirt over it, and something had driven the human to ran like a madman through the Deep Roads. Hurlock Alpha did not know what, but it didn't care to. It was the most intelligent one in it's pack. The Alpha followed the human's scent, and was rewarded by song getting closer.  
The other, lesser darkspawn were making eager noises behind the Alpha as they finally reached an old stone door, left wide open. Behind it, there were stairs leading upwards. The song was coming from the top of the stairs, from surface. It was a call the darkspawn could not ignore, and it was so near. Almost near enough to touch. The hurlock alpha craved the singing presence, with a hunger it did not have words for. It's mind was void of all thought except the song. It started to run, and the darkspawn behind it followed.

 --

Anders was standing with Varric, both of them trying to hide in the shadow of the mountain. He was feeling panicked. This could not be happening. This could not be real.  
"Do you understand what they are saying?", he asked from Varric, who looked slightly green.  
"They taught me elvish because the First Warden is a nitpicker about literature. Trade language is not good enough for _her_ story.", Varric replied. "You should be grateful not to understand, Blondie. This is freaky shit which will end badly."  
Lowering his voice, he whispered:  
"I never thought I would say this to you, Blondie, but we might want to escape together at earliest opportunity. You were right to leave the Wardens. They are all mad."  
"Wait for an opening, take the mages and run?", Anders suggested.  
Varric sighed.  
"Take the mages and run.", he agreed. He should have known Blondie.

 --

 "A gesture of good faith?", Daern'thal repeated Fen'Harel's words, looking at Anaris. "Does this sound familiar to you, brother?"  
"Oh yes, it does.", Anaris said, a joyless chuckle escaping his lips. "Even though we once counted you among our own, Fen'Harel, it seems to me that you make the same mistake Creators always made. Your pride will consume you, like it consumed Andruil, Dirthamen, and whole Elvhenan."  
"You offer promises to your sister, the Huntress, but nothing to us. You are arrogant fool, who forgot we have no interest in freeing more of you. Let the Blight come. Let the song end, until only silence remains, and maybe Eldest of the Sun will finally learn that gods are not born by a nature but a deed.", Daern'thal growled.

Andruil had been silent so far, watching at Aeonar ruins with predatory look on her beautiful face. Ellana could have sworn that the black veins on her pale skin were more visible than a moment ago.  
With a smooth movement, she drew a bow from her back and aimed at Fen'Harel.  
"You have talked long enough, brother.", Andruil told him. "The darkspawn are almost here, and they are hungry. Now we negotiate in my terms, which are simple. Will you take the Taint to join our rebellion or will I feed our youngest sister to hurlocks? Her song is so very loud and new."  
Fen'Harel opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by a new voice approaching from the west:  
"Begone, demons, in the name of Maker!"

 

Ellana had studied her history. It didn't take a Keeper to understand she was witnessing yet another colossally unlucky moment which Abelas described as "Fen'Harel's major fuck ups" when he was particularly annoyed with his daughter's choice of a lover. Trying to negotiate with Forgotten Ones and blighted Andruil would have been bad enough, but she could see an army of templars marching from the west, and there were hissing, growling noises coming from the ruins of Aeonar, while she were caught in the middle with her fellow prisoners. There was no way this was going to end well.

Fingers brushing over the healed sunburst scar on her forehead, Ellana drew a deep breath and let the situation sink in. Her magic was like a boiling kettle forgotten over the fire, ready to spill over any moment. She had fought to keep it under control, but she was getting frightened now, and there was a dark helpless void inside her when she heard the sound of armored boots getting closer. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to remember, to know what would happen if the shemlen caught her again. Ellana felt the denial dwelling inside her, turning into something hard, sharp enough to cut with. It reminded her of the shard Elgar'nan had created, and the slow ice flowing in her veins.

Fen'Harel was still holding lord commander's skull in his hand, trying fervently to decide what to do. He was taken by surprise when he felt Ellana grabbing the skull back. Fen'Harel had scarcely time to note that she was having that stubborn look on her face again, when Ellana brought her elbow back and around, rotating her arm to bring strength behind the movement, and threw.  
The skull shot through the air, hitting Andruil squarely on the chest, and it broke against her armor. The explosion of power threw Fen'Harel on the ground, and his ears were still ringing when Ellana pulled him up. Andruil was on the ground, writhing in flames, and the templars were on them. Fen'Harel saw one of them hacking at Anaris' leg and a unintelligible screech of a shriek echoed from the Aeonar entrance. The former prisoners were running, and--  
"Run, you fool!", he read from his vhenan's lips, because he couldn't hear a thing when Ellana took his arm and slammed her magic down. Fen'Harel screamed as they shot upwards. Unfazed by the sudden reversion of gravity, Ellana shapeshifted into a High Dragon and caught him securely in her talons.

All those afternoons she had spent drawing of dragon's wing bones during Inquisition had clearly paid off, because she flew like an arrow shot though the air. Ellana's dragon was smaller and less majestic than the form pantheon usually favored, but notably faster. Andruil would not catch them, and Forgotten Ones didn't even have a hope.

Fen'Harel watched the chaos below growing smaller and smaller, and a slightly hysterical giggle escaped from his throat. His vhenan was not dead; she was alive. She was not mortal, but recently ascended, and if fate willed so, he could keep her at his side for the rest of their days. And she had knocked out the Huntress, tricking Andruil and Forgotten Ones into believing she was young and harmless, a captured prey.  
If someone was a captured prey, it was him, dangling from dragon's talons as she dragged him towards her nest. Hopefully not to feed her young. Surely Siona was better fed than that.   
Fen'Harel could scarcely wait to see the look on Abelas' face when he saw them approaching. Sentinel's beloved contract had clauses which ruled the consequences of Fen'Harel being bad influence on his daughter. The Dread Wolf could not quite recall what they were, but seeing Abelas' shock would surely be worth it.  
"To southeast!", he shouted, and the dragon changed her course slightly, picking up speed.

Fen'Harel found that once he had started giggling madly, he couldn't stop. Maybe the Dalish had been right about that one. This did feel wonderful.


	24. My daughter and yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June is left alone to do the actual work.  
> Kallian faces the sad reality of being the youngest sentinel - grunt work.  
> Many, many feels in Abelas' house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short one, but it was too perfect place to end the chapter. 
> 
> If you want to enjoy the feels in the end, I recommend "That's a nice day"   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFMt6HHM1MI
> 
> And the song Elgar'nan is singing? If you don't recognize it, count yourselves lucky.

June was trying to control the chaos raging in the city. Having hundreds of people with sudden spark of magic inside them was an administrative nightmare. He wasn't doing very well himself: all he wanted was to go and lie in dark room and try to calm down. Creating the Veil for Fen'Harel had been a costly sacrifice. It had burned his magic out, and more. The Veil had been woven with his own spirit, and ever since June had been a prisoner inside his own mind. Having everything back so suddenly, without warning, was disorienting. June couldn't decide whether he wanted to scream for joy or start weeping for all those horrible years he had listened himself saying "Enchantment!" He never ever wanted to hear that word again.  
He cursed Elgar'nan and Mythal. Why they had to choose just this moment to decide they no longer hated each other? Couldn't they at least lend a hand here before sparking off their love affair again? And where was Fen'Harel? He had ruined the doors of Chamber of Ruling, not caring the carvings had taken five hundred years to get just right, and now he had taken off somewhere. When June saw him again, he would--  
"We have placed the most nervous ones under anti-magic fields.", breathless Fiona came to report.   
"Good.", June sighed, turning to address the Keepers. "Put all adults in the groups of six, give them a cup filled with water and tell them to concentrate on that. Basic beginner drills. Circle mages will provide damage control. And tell my sentinels to turn on the rain, to keep out any fires."

 

\-- 

 

"Papae?", Siona asked.  
"Your father is indisposed at the moment.", Abelas said gravely.   
"That's one way of saying it.", Senris snorted.  
"What in the Void they are doing?", Kallian asked when she came carrying two bags filled with Siona's clothes and heard music coming from the other side of the door.  
Abelas looked at Senris, and Senris looked back at Abelas.  
"Senris is the leader of sentinels here.", Abelas stated, his golden eyes filled with smug satisfaction. Senris gave him a dark look and opened his mouth to explain, when noise behind the wall interrupted him. Elgar'nan was singing.   
"I know you want me - I made it obvious that I want you too - So put it on me - Let's remove the space between me and you--"  
The song was cut short by woman's giggling and a wave of magic which shook the walls. There was a sound something metallic falling on the floor and some cursing, followed with more laughter before the song began again.  
"Here is the situation - given my reputation -.."  
"Like I was saying.", Senris began, keeping his face expressionless, "this is simply a private reconciliation. It happens every time when my lord leaves to war."  
"And sometimes between.", Abelas added, hoisting the bags over his shoulder.   
"Yes. Sometimes between. It usually runs out in few centuries. Give or take.", Senris shrugged.  
"It can't be true.", Kallian said, shaking her head and looking at Abelas. "You are saying that I have to spend the rest of my life guarding a door and listening Mythal bumping bits with Elgar'nan?"  
"More or less."  
"But the Veil is broken! The People need them!"  
"If my lord is to leave to war, he needs his full power. Even now he is working tirelessly for the People to ensure it will be so.", Senris stated.  
"I can hear his tireless work, thank you.", Kallian said sarcastically. "You ancient ones are just weird. Plain weird. Does it count as a heroic death when I die of old age standing in front of this door?"  
"It is a death in the service of Mythal.", Abelas nodded, the corners of his lips curving slightly.  
"Since we won't meet again, I just wanted to say you have a lovely smile.", Kallian sighed. "Last words and all that."  
Abelas raised his eyebrows and was going to say something when Senris snapped:  
"No flirting on this side of the door, thank you. I will send you a word when the temple is suitable for children again."  
"Come then, Siona.", Abelas told his granddaughter and they started the walk home. It was slow with a baby who still needed support and her steps were short and faltering, but Abelas didn't mind. Lovely smile? It was a discussion he might continue later. If Kallian did not die guarding Mythal's door, that was.

 

\--

 

Ellana was scarcely holding herself together as she pressed her hand against dragon carving guarding the gates of Abelas' house. Her willpower had ran out as soon as they had reached Arlathan, and she had no fight left in her. Fen'Harel had sneaked her inside the city's shields and stolen a long, hooded cloak from the crates in one of the guard towers. Ellana was grateful for that, because right now, she could not handle inevitable questions. To be honest, she knew she was going to sit down on a street and wail like a child if someone spoke to her, even though it was not a godly thing to do. Her magic was chaotic, hard to control, and her feelings were worse.  
She couldn't hold back a relieved sob when the gates swung open, and she ran inside, not even looking whether Fen'Harel was following her.  
"Father!", she raised her voice, stopping in the garden in front of the house.  
"He might not be here.", Fen' Harel told her. "The city is in chaos, now, and every mage is needed."  
Ellana shook her head, not willing to accept the option.  
"Father!", she shouted again. "Father, _please_! I _need_ you!"  
The lights in the house lit up, and the main door opened. Abelas stood on the threshold, a book in his hand, looking in the rainy darkness.   
"Papae, _please_. It was terrible. It was all so terrible.", Ellana burst into desperate tears, crying like a child.  
Fen'Harel had never seen anyone move so quickly. Abelas dropped the book on the floor and stepped through the Fade, pulling Ellana into his arms.   
"I was so frightened.", she wept against his chest. "The shemlen hurt me, and I broke the Veil. They cut off my hand and made me Tranquil. I hate them! I hate them! There were darkspawn and templars and Andruil wanted Forgotten Ones to eat me."  
Abelas looked like he was going to faint, but with an effort of will Fen'Harel could only admire, he wiped all signs of fear, disgust and rage from his face. He held her tightly, stroking her hair with gentleness and said:  
"Shh, da'len. You are home now. You are safe."  
Abelas bent down to hook an arm under her knees and lifted her up. Ellana hid her face against his shirt, holding her arms around his neck. Her shoulders were shaking by sobs racking her body.  
"Come, Fen'Harel.", Abelas said, turning towards the house.

In the hall, Abelas stopped and looked at Fen'Harel, an unvoiced question in his eyes.  
"I healed what I could but we didn't have time to talk.", Fen'Harel said, feeling helpless. "I don't know what has happened. She might still have injuries I didn't notice. I can tell she has been recently uplifted and she is bleeding magic everywhere, but I don't know by whom. Or how."  
"A bath, clean clothes, something to eat. Anything else?", Abelas asked.  
"A witherstalk potion.", Fen'Harel said reluctantly.  
"I see.", Abelas said slowly, holding Ellana a bit closer. "Siona is sleeping in her room next to library. I will attend my daughter. You take care of yours."  
"What?", Fen'Harel asked, sure he had misunderstood.  
"No matter what misgivings I have had about you, you brought back my child. I will no longer keep you away from yours. We will talk later.", Abelas stated and turned to left, starting to climb upstairs.

 

Fen'Harel stood alone in the hall, and for once in his life, he couldn't think a single word to say.

 

 


	25. The Fruits of Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'Harel learns a thing or two about fatherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who want to drown in the feels in the end of the chapter: "Elgar'nan, Fen'Harel & the baby"- theme from chapter 18.  
> Photo Montage - We were soldiers OST https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4xyL1pK_Qc

Fen'Harel had spent hours watching the sleeping baby and trying to understand. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not find a trace of himself on her delicate features. Her long hair was pale and shining, the exact shade of Elgar'nan's. It was impossible to tell whether it was the palest silver or gold, because it changed according to light in the room.  
He remembered the day he had first seen the child. Elgar'nan had been very pleased, and promised to give up all thoughts of vengeance for his imprisonment in the box. It was customary in Elvhenan to honor a birth of child with promises, and Elgar'nan was prone to extravagant gestures. But Fen'Harel could still recall the oddest feeling he had when God of Vengeance had given the child into his arms. It was a sense of loss, and afterwards, he had thought it had been because his lover had a child with another man. It was reasonable explanation. It still was.  
If Abelas had told him the truth - and Fen'Harel did not believe Abelas would intentionally lie to cause another pain - there was one question which towered over everything else. If it was true, why Ellana had not told him?  
  
He still had not found answer for that question when he fell asleep, his head against the table. Out of habit, he automatically shielded himself against any bursts of magical energy, but forgot about the baby.

 

Fen'Harel woke up to sound of screaming.  
"Senris! Papae! Grandfather! There is a strange man in my room!", a naked child yelled in panic. She looked like six shemlen years old. When she saw Fen'Harel opening his eyes, she climbed on the top of the wardrobe and backed into farthest corner.  
"Papae!", she screamed. "It's an assassin again!"  
Fen'Harel looked wildly around, trying to spot the assassin she was going on about. Maybe Forgotten Ones had figured out a way to release Dirthamen; his invisibility spells were unchallenged, tailored to deceive his brothers and sisters. And the baby... the baby was gone!  
He stood up and reached in the top of the wardrobe to pull the child down. There was no time. He had to get the child to safety and then find out who had taken his daughter.  
"Go away!", the child wailed in panic. "Papae! I'm scared!"  
When Fen'Harel's fingers should have brushed against her leg, he was thrown back by invisible force. The magic exploded, making his ears ring and destroying a collection of glass figures on the table. Fen'Harel flew across the room, crashing against the bookshelf. He saw a glimpse of red runes flashing on girl's skin and felt some kind of spell activating, but the bookshelf was wobbling badly. And of course, it promptly fell on him.

 

Abelas walked into ruined room, cursing under his breath as he picked his way around the shards of broken glass. He saw a hand sticking out under the bookshelf and crouched down to lift up the piece of furniture.  
"Those glass halla belonged to my mother.", he told Fen'Harel, who looked slightly concussed. "I give you one job: watch over a sleeping baby while I attend her mother. And what do I get? You have misplaced my granddaughter and destroyed her room in mere hours!"  
"It's not my fault!", Fen'Harel defended himself. "When I woke up, Siona wasn't here! There was a hysterical naked girl who hid on the top of the wardrobe and kept screaming about assassins!"  
Abelas tried very hard to resist an urge to twist Dread Wolf's head off.  
"Two questions, Fen'Harel.", he said, gritting his teeth together. "First question: what did that child look like?"  
"Why, she was silvery blond with blue eyes. Maybe five or six shemlen years.", Fen'Harel replied, cringing as he sat up.  
"The second question.", Abelas said dangerously. "Did you remember to shield the baby from magic before you fell asleep? You knew Ellana is bleeding magic all over the house, and I cannot contain every single trace of it."  
Fen'Harel's mouth worked wordlessly, and a terrifying revelation came over him.  
"Fenedhis.", he cursed.  
One of the maddening peculiarities of elvhen children were the growth spurts. A mother could put a toddler to sleep one night, and find a teenager when she went to wake her up. Fen'Harel had never been particularly interested in children, preferring to avoid them until they could engage in reasonable conversation, but he faintly remembered being forced to attend Sylaise's tea party where Sylaise and Mythal had spoken magical exposure triggering these spurts. Now he found himself hoping that he had paid attention to discussion.  
"Precisely.", Abelas sneered. "Now we will have that talk, and then you go outside and find her."

\--

"I'm curious to know what is important enough to make Senris call you away from me?", Mythal asked, feeling warm and pleased as she watched Elgar'nan return to bedroom.  
"I am not yet sure.", Elgar'nan replied, sitting down on the bed. "One of my long-term plans may come to fruition soon."  
"Would you tell me what it is?"  
"For you, my one love, anything.", he smiled, following the curve of her jaw with his fingertips. "I think you will appreciate the poetic justice in it. Fen'Harel still holds our children imprisoned, and has not made a single move to return our sons to us. He will bring back Dirthamen and Falon'Din, and there will be no more rebellions. No more slacking off the meetings. He will be a model of good behaviour from now on."  
"I thought you didn't care.", Mythal said, taken by surprise.  
"I _do_ care. More than you know, my love. Let me tell you.", Elgar'nan bent to whisper in her ear.

\--

When Fen'Harel closed the gates of the house and started to walk towards Elgar'nan's temple, his mind was still a raging chaos after his discussion with Abelas.

"Ellana had planned to tell you after the wedding.", the sentinel had said neutrally. "After what happened between you two, she was hurt. She told me that she didn't want to rob you of your redemption and risk your bitterness for doing so, but neither she could trust you to care for her child after her mortal years ended. So she asked Elgar'nan."  
"That vengeful bastard? Of all possible people!", Fen'Harel raised his voice.  
"I'm not telling you this to hurt you or to sugarcoat her choices, Fen'Harel.", Abelas said firmly. "You will have your chance to discuss this with Ellana, but in ordained fashion, and only after she is better and you have had time to think. You will follow the rules of the contract, both of you. Ever since Arlathan rose, Siona has been raised by Elgar'nan, and he has been a good father. The child loves him. I will not allow you or my daughter to wreck my granddaughter's life just because you both were fools."  
"But.. why she looks like him? Are you certain she is.. mine?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"I don't know. I only know that Elgar'nan referred the child my daughter was carrying as yours, and she said the same thing. I wasn't there to see the birth. I only know that when Ellana came back, Siona was the baby in her arms.", Abelas shrugged.  
A terrifying sea filled with options opened in Fen'Harel's mind that moment. He would not put it past Elgar'nan to steal the child and switch her with another, leaving his daughter abandoned somewhere while the cuckoo lived the life meant for her. A memory of Elgar'nan's words chilled his blood.  
_Now, if you will, could you take her to Ellana through my eluvian? I expect she is eager to have her first good look at her baby._  
"There is one other thing.", Abelas interrupted his frenzied thoughts. "Ellana does not remember."  
"What?"  
"I tried to talk about this with her last night. She remembers Siona, but she does not remember anything about you being the father. It might come back to her later, but who knows? One cannot escape a decade of Tranquility with all her feelings and memories unscathed. I can scarcely think any other memory which would have been as tied to her stolen emotions as that one. Fen'Harel, you must prepare yourself to eventuality where she never remembers, and cannot give you the answers you need."

\--

 

It was evident that Elgar'nan knew he was coming. When Fen'Harel walked through the path lined with tall oaks, he saw that the bridge made of pure light was down to give him easy passage across the river. There were no elves in attendance today, and he could not see a single servant hurrying through the enchanted woodland. Even the priests, who were usually easy to spot in flame-colored robes, were missing.

When Fen'Harel reached the ornate double doors leading to Elgar'nan's main hall, there were two sentinels standing on guard.  
"The Eldest of Sun is expecting you, Dread Wolf.", the woman in black armor said, and pushed the doors open. Fen'Harel walked through it, holding his chin high. Although he lacked the vestments he had worn in his youth, his pride was unchanged.

 

Elgar'nan's main hall opened to waterfall rushing from the rock making up the back wall of the chamber. There was a narrow and winding path towards the dais, wide enough for two men to walk side by side. The dais itself was built on the carved stone columns rising from the depths below, and one sentinel stood on each corner, guarding the steps leading up to the throne. Elgar'nan sat there, wrapped in an extravagant cloak of rust-red silk spread on the throne and splashed around his feet. Underneath it, he wore a long, silvery tunic with long boots and trousers, and the crown of twigs and leaves on his head.  
Fen'Harel's attention, however, was taken by smaller figure sitting by Elgar'nan's feet. The girl was watching him reservedly. The likeness was undeniable, now, when he saw the two of them together like this. Someone had gone through great deal of trouble to dress her in silver gown which shone like radiance of stars, and braid her hair in same style Elgar'nan wore.  
"There is no need to be frightened, daughter.", Elgar'nan said, resting his jeweled hand lightly on girl's head. "This is only the Dread Wolf, coming to make apologies."  
"But papae, I didn't mean to push him.", Siona looked up to Elgar'nan, her expression anxious. "It was a mistake."  
"I'm sure Fen'Harel will forgive you. He has done more than his share of mistakes, and surely he will not hold your first flare of magic against you. Nobody thought you would grow up so quickly and unexpectedly. Had I known this would happen, I would have prepared you better, like a father should.", Elgar'nan told her. "Now, be a good da'len and apologize to Dread Wolf."  
Siona licked her lips nervously - a gesture which reminded Fen'Harel painstakingly of Ellana - and stood up, descending down the stairs to dais.  
"Ir abelas, Fen'Harel.", she said, and took his hand to press a kiss on his knuckles. "I'm very sorry for pushing you against the bookshelf."  
Fen'Harel looked at the child holding his hand between hers, and felt the tentative, fumbling attempt of magic brushing against his shields. He recognized it. It felt like an eerie echo from thousands of years in the past, a faint call of memory from time long gone. It felt like.. his own magic had been, when it first came to him. Her magic was nothing like burning brightness Elgar'nan wielded, but the quiet, fading note which would in time draw the spirits of Fade like a beacon.  
Fen'Harel felt dizzy and lightheaded, and all blood drained from his face as he stared at the child. His child. Oh, Creators, it was _true_.  
"Fen'Harel.", Elgar'nan's voice demanded his attention. "I believe my daughter waits for your answer."  
The bastard knew. He knew, and he had planned all this. This exquisite revenge. Now Fen'Harel understood what Elgar'nan had meant with his words on the day Siona was born.  
_"I have decided to give up all thoughts of vengeance I harbored towards you because you put me in that box for over three thousand years. This day has given me an ample reason to put all that behind us."_  
Fen'Harel wanted to kill him. He wanted nothing more than storm up the steps to throne and rip Elgar'nan's throat open, to taste the warm blood of the All-Father, but the small hands still holding his kept him chained as surely as any shackles June had wrought from silverite and magic.  
Fen'Harel looked down at the child whose pale blue eyes were shadowed with worry and fear, and forced a smile on his lips.  
"You have done nothing wrong, Siona.", he said. "This is not your fault. I'm sorry for...everything."  
The Eldest of Sun smiled down to them, a warm fatherly smile of a benevolent king watching over his subjects, and Fen'Harel's spirit burned with a bitter knowledge. He knew he was leashed, now.


	26. Truth is not mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siona wants to have many, many gowns.   
> She has a discussion with Evil One.
> 
> Zevran's aim with arrows of love might be perfect, but as a mage, he fails critically. Never hit a rubbish chute.
> 
> Abelas falls in hate with Mythal.  
> Senris calls his master a bloody moron and runs for his life through the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Siona's many, many gowns come from this video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=522_aSx1ISk  
> My Elgar'nan was originally inspired by Thranduil, especially looks and vanity.
> 
> There is something very odd in the musical tastes of those living in that temple. I've mentioned earlier that Elgar'nan wants to be written to Basic Element. Siona's POV requires David Guetta as a cappella-version.   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5NSHthWYyk

Siona ran along the corridor in her nightgown, holding a parchment in her hand. It wasn't really a nightgown, but one of Elgar'nan's shirts with a shawl thrown over it. The temple servants had shortened the sleeves to fit Siona, because growing overnight had left her without anything to wear.  
"Look, Senris!", she waved a parchment at pair of sentinels standing on guard in atrium leading to Elgar'nan's rooms. "I finally finished it!"  
Senris smiled at her eagerness and took the paper. All 42 letters of elvish alphabet were neatly copied on it with childish, round handwriting.  
"Do you think it's good enough?", Siona asked enthusiastically. "I had to write it twice to make it look pretty for papae."  
Senris nodded gravely.  
"I'm sure he will be pleased, da'len."  
"He promised to take me shopping when I learn my letters.", Siona hugged herself with glee. "I'm going to have a green dress with flowers, and a yellow dress with little beads sewn in, and trousers for sword lessons. Did you see my first lesson yesterday, Senris?"  
"No, but Haleth and Lassian told me all about it. "  
"Papae said I was doing better than my brothers did when he taught them for first time.", Siona announced. "When I grow up, I will be a dual-wielder!"  
Senris laughed warmly.  
"How do you know it after only one lesson, da'len?"  
"I don't want to wield a ugly maul like grandfather does.", Siona told him. "And bows are boring."  
"You are jumping to conclusions, little one.", the second sentinel, Amanya scolded her gently. "A true warrior must master all weapons. In battle, one cannot count on having her chosen blade."  
"I guess you are right, Amanya.", Siona admitted, looking embarrassed. It took only a moment for her to brighten up again, and she showed her paper to Amanya.  
"Look! Aren't my letters pretty!"  
"Yes, they are.", the woman said, exchanging an amused glance with Senris.   
"We are going to tailor in the artisan quarter.", Siona announced. "I haven't been there before, but I think I know what I should do there. Look."  
Siona straightened her back, lifted up her chin and took a few steps. With a smooth, graceful roll of her shoulders and arms, she dropped the shawl on the chair behind her. It landed perfectly, looking artfully arranged. She cocked her head slightly on the side, looking arrogant, and said:  
"What should I wear? A silver caftan, or gold flowing robes? Black tunic?"  
The sentinels bit their tongues, trying not to look at each other, because the child was performing a deadbeat imitation of their glorious leader, complete with the gesture Elgar'nan unthinkingly did every time he sat on his throne.  
"Did I get it right, Senris?", Siona asked him. "Is that what one should do at tailor's?"  
"You will do just fine, da'len.", Senris said, trying very hard to keep his face neutral.  
"Then I will have many, many gowns. Just like papae.", Siona was very pleased as she took her paper back from Amanya. "Can I go in now?"  
"Yes, but be polite. He has a guest.", Senris warned. "And you could do us a favor.", he continued, opening a drawer. He took out a small glass jar of antiseptic cream and gave it to Siona. "Take this to your father."  
Siona grimaced.  
"Not the Evil One biting him again! I thought I woke up to someone screeching. Doesn't she have her own temple to stay at?"  
"You must not call Mythal the Evil One.", Senris knelt down and took Siona's face between his hands. "I mean it, da'len. It is very dangerous thing to say. Slandering Creators is a treason. I have seen people executed for less."  
"I'm not stupid.", the child's eyes welled suddenly with tears. "I was small, but I remember things. All those assassins were hers, although you lied and claimed it must have been Forgotten Ones. They are locked away! It's her fault my nurse died, and Ildenar, too! It was evil thing to do!"  
Senris sighed, trying to find right words.  
"We all miss Ildenar. She was one of us, our sister.", he said gravely. "But it is never wise to get caught between Creators, Siona. We all love you, and will protect you with our lives. But there are fights even sentinels cannot win. Do not provoke Mythal, da'len. Please. Be on your very best behavior."  
"Now, dry your eyes and go.", Amanya said, handing her a handkerchief. "There is no reason to be sad. You have worked hard, and now is time for your reward."  
Siona nodded, wiping her eyes and pulling the shawl over her shoulders again. Senris opened the door for her, and she ran inside, her bare feet slapping against the marble floors. He pulled the door closed again.  
"I hope she remembers.", Amanya remarked.  
"She is a good girl.", Senris said. "The temple has been much lighter place after she came to us."  
"I wonder if it will change, now that her mother has returned."  
"Hopefully not. Master is planning to tell her today."

 

 

"Papae!", Siona ran through Elgar'nan's private rooms, holding her precious paper. "Papae! I finished it!", she shouted, opening the door to garden terrace. He usually had a brunch there at this time of the day.  
"Cut the racket, girl.", a woman sitting by the table said. She was wearing a dressing robe with slippers made from blue brocade.  
Siona stopped where she stood, her joy turning into reservation. Remembering Senris' words, she looked at the Evil One and asked with frosty politeness:  
"Do you know where my father is? He promised to take me shopping today."  
"Girl, are you blind? The Forgotten Ones have been unleashed, there is a recently ascended new god in the Pantheon, Veil has been broken and the city is full of new mages unable to control their powers. Elgar'nan does not have time for you."  
"He promised.", Siona said, holding her parchment. "Papae always keeps his promises."  
Mythal snorted.  
"Such faith.", she said, watching Siona with interest. "Tell me, child, how you see your future? What will you be when you grow up?"  
Siona was taken aback for her odd question.  
"I don't know yet. Grandfather says there is no reason to hurry, and I will have plenty of time to decide. I have a tutor, now, who is teaching me letters and reading, and papae is teaching me fencing, and there are magic lessons, too."  
"Fencing? Do you think you will be a sentinel, then? A priest?", Mythal asked.  
"Papae says I'm his princess.", Siona said in small voice. This discussion was making her nervous.  
Mythal started to laugh heartily.  
"A princess? More like a cuckoo in bird's nest."  
"You are mean.", Siona said, her voice shaking. "You are a guest in our house, and you can't insult me at my own home! It's not polite!"  
"Girl, I'm the All-Mother. I have been here far longer than you, and will be even after you have been gone.", Mythal bent towards her. "This is not your home. You are just a guest."  
"I want to see papae.", Siona was on the edge of tears. She didn't understand anything Mythal was saying. Her paper was all crumbled in her sweaty hands, now.  
"Elgar'nan is not your father. He told me the truth two months ago.", Mythal said calmly. "You are a just a foundling he took in. You are no princess, and this is not your home."  
"You lie.", Siona said, tears running along her little face. "You lie, because you hate me, and you want to keep papae all by yourself! You hate me because you hated my mother! You sent assassins to kill me when I was small!"  
"You have nothing to fear from me anymore, princess.", the nickname sounded so different, mocking, coming from Mythal's lips. "You are not my sun's child, and therefore not a threat. I have nothing against your mother. Ellana served me well as my vessel, and now she has returned to us. I will support her formal ascendance to pantheon."  
"My mother is.. alive? Here, in Arlathan?", Siona tried to get words out, but it was hard. Her heart felt like it would turn into Void, the emptiness aching.  
"Yes. She has been here for some time. Your father, Fen'Harel, is with her in Abelas' house.", Mythal's eyes were serious yet somewhat cold. She reminded Siona of a lizard. "Consider this a gift to make up for my misinformed attempts on your life, girl. Truth is not always easy thing to bear, but growing up in a lie is not a mercy either."  
Siona couldn't take it anymore. Blinded by tears, she dropped her paper, all ruined and useless now, and ran away.

 

It felt like she was in fire from the inside. Her spirit was hurting. Nobody wanted her. Papae.. no, Elgar'nan, wasn't papae. Elgar'nan had lied to her. Calling her his princess, letting her think the temple was her home. Siona cried so hard she could scarcely see where she was going.  
Her real papae had always been there, but he didn't care about her. Siona had seen Fen'Harel many times in Chamber of Ruling or Abelas' house, but they had never spoken except when she thought he was an assassin. He always just slept on his throne.  
And mamae.. Her mamae was alive, but she didn't care either. What kind of mamae let her da'len think she was dead? She was in grandfather's house, but had sent no message to ask to see Siona. Grandfather Abelas.. Siona would have thought that he, at least, would have cared. But he didn't. It was obvious. He was keeping secrets from her, too. That had to be why she wasn't allowed to visit grandfather's house after she grew so much suddenly. Grandfather didn't want her to know mamae was there. Or mamae didn't want to see her.

She couldn't see much for her tears, when she ran through the garden to her room and started to pack her things. Mythal had said this was not her home. Nobody wanted her. She wept as she chose her best doll, lady Lindrinae, which papae - no, Elgar'nan - had given her because he said it looked just like her. Siona stuffed the doll in a backpack, took two apples from the silver tray, and opened her wardrobe. Her pretty silver dress was there, hanging with old tunic, cloak and trousers papae--, Elgar'nan had found from the wardrobe wing. They were Dirthamen's old clothes, he had said, and would suffice for fencing lessons until they had time to go to tailor. Throwing away her nightgown and shawl, Siona wept as she got dressed. She took her new sword and tied it around her waist. Senris had made extra holes on the belt, because Falon'Din had been bigger than her when the sword had been his. It was horrible when she realized she didn't have brothers either. She had never seen them, of course, but it still had felt nice to think what it would be like one day when Fen'Harel would finally let them out. 

She was nothing, and she had nobody. Siona took a knife from the apple tray and stood in front of mirror. She took a hold of her long braid - it had never been cut before, because papae loved her hair which was just like his - and started sawing.  
  


\--

Scaling the garden wall had not been hard. She knew all sentinels and their guard routines. This was first time she had been in the city alone, and it was odd. Siona was accustomed people turning their heads and staring at her, whispering behind their hands, but now she could have been invisible. Nobody paid much attention to little boy with badly cut short hair. 

It was understandable, of course, because she wasn't really a princess. She was just.. How had Mythal said it? A cuckoo in bird's nest? Cuckoos were nasty birds, her tutor had explained. They pushed the real baby birds out from nest so the eggs broke, and hoarded all the food for themselves, pretending to be a species they weren't. Mythal had said she was a _cuckoo_. Grandfather Abelas had told that Mythal judged People and saw the truths in their hearts. She would _know_.

She had gotten lost long time ago, and the beautiful temple area had first turned to merchant quarter, then the houses of servants, and finally she had passed even those. This part of the city was almost deserted, and the buildings were in bad repair. Arlathan had been full of People once, Senris had told her, but now there were scarcely enough to fill the quarters closest to temple area. It would take thousands of years to have enough elves to rebuild and reclaim the whole city. 

Siona was starting to get a bit frightened. She had never been alone for so long. Watching the position of sun, she thought it might be midday already. She was getting hungry and her head hurt. Siona had forgotten to pack anything to drink, but there was a ruined fountain in the crossroads. A drink of water would be welcome, and washing her face might help with headache.  
"Now. The dispel spell. It is important not to mix up the dispel with displacement. Although they both belong to same school of magic and use same components, the casting differs on several crucial points.", a woman's voice lectured somewhere nearby, alerting her as she bent over the fountain to wash her face. Looking around, she saw a ruined stone wall. The voices were coming behind her. She was too short to see over it. It felt nice to know she wasn't alone here. They were obviously studying magic. Siona didn't know anything called dispel, because her tutor was still going through the basic control exercises with her, and she was curious.  
Tutor. She didn't have a tutor anymore, and it was very important to learn how to control one's magic. She had already dropped a bookshelf on Fen'Harel by mistake. Siona decided to stay for a while and listen if they would explain the dispel thing. She had to learn somehow.

 

To be honest, she didn't understand much anything about woman's explanation. The concepts didn't sound familiar, and the mage used very long words which were foreign to her. She couldn't even read yet. Deciding it was useless to stay, Siona took an apple from her backpack and bit it, starting towards north. She followed along the ruined stone wall for a while and then arrived to open space which might had been a market square, once. There was a curious thing in the middle of it. The voices of mage and her students were still audible, although it was a bit harder to make out the words, now.  
The curious thing was some kind of tall fence, which was painted red. It smelled bad. There was a wooden cover over it, and a big lock which looked very important. There was writing on the fence, in two different alphabets. Siona knew that some elves had spoken shemlen language before Arlathan, but it had been a long time ago, and now everyone spoke elvish.  
She rose on her toes, following the lower set of letters with her fingertips. They were big and dark, and looked all angular. Ugly. She had never seen shemlen writing before. Papae-- She couldn't call him that. Elgar'nan had said that shems were hairy creatures who lived below. They were evil. Siona knew it, because one of Mythal's sentinels, Kallian had been a slave when elves still lived on Thedas. Grandfather liked Kallian, Siona could tell, but they didn't even hold hands. Adults were odd that way. When Siona had asked about it, Kallian had just smiled and patted her head, saying that slavery was horrible evil thing and something no little girl should know about.  
It made sense that their alphabet was ugly since they were evil, but Siona didn't understand why someone would paint a fence red and write slave letters on it below real writing.  
"D-I-N.", she read painstakingly, tasting the letters of elvish alphabet on her tongue, trying to figure out what they were supposed to sound like.  
"Din!"  
Of course. Now she understood. Din. It was just like saying it. When she said the letters out loud, they made a word, a sound. Din meant _not_ , or _isn't_.  
Eagerly Siona leaned forwards. She couldn't quite make up the next word of elvish writing, because the cover locked over a fence was shadowing it. Throwing her backpack on the ground behind her, she lifted up her arms and started jumping. If she only could get her hand on the edge of wooden cover maybe she could pull herself up and get the next word.

It was really hard, but finally she managed to pull herself up. Siona was very proud for it. After she had grown, sentinels had made her run, climb and help the maids with laundry baskets. She had done parts of their morning katas with them every day, to make her strong enough to start the fencing lessons.  
The lady mage was shouting at her students, now. Maybe they were being stubborn, or they did something wrong. Magic was hard. Siona could do fairy lights, but nothing else yet. Papae had said her lights were pretty. Not wanting to think about papae, she took a good hold on the edge of cover and crept near the side. Peeking over it, she could make out the letters of the second word. It was hard to read upside down, but she was quite sure the first one was 'r'.  
"Ready your spells, now!", the lady mage shouted. Siona wished they would be silent. It was hard to concentrate when somebody was yelling close by.  
"Aim! Zevran, make sure your spell stays on the training area! Your aim leaves a lot to wish for!"  
"I assure you, enchanter, there is nothing wrong with my aim when it comes to arrows of love."  
Siona shook her head. Arrows of love. She had never heard anything about such. Maybe they were poisoned ones. Senris didn't let her touch those. The second letter was 'e'.  
"R-E-T-H. Reth.", she whispered slowly. Din reth. Not safe. Siona smiled victoriously. She could read! The writing on the fence said "not safe!"  
"Dispel!", the lady mage commanded.  
Siona felt odd thing, like cold fingers running along her spine, and she looked up. Four shimmering things were shooting through the air to west, but the fifth was going in different direction. It kept turning right, and it was a bit bluish compared to others and.. It was coming to her!  
"That's a bastard child of dispel and displacement, Zevran!", the lady mage snapped.  
Siona panicked, trying to slam down a barrier, but she couldn't make one. She could do only fairy lights, and pink sparkles didn't help at all when the cold, shimmery thing hit her. It didn't hurt, but the wooden cover and the fence were suddenly not there, and she was _falling_.

"Papae!", she screamed on the top of her lungs. "Papae!"   
She saw blue sky and fluffy clouds, but they were all wrong. Clouds were supposed to be above her and around the city, she was not supposed to fall through one. The cloud was wet and freezing, and then it was gone, and there was something green and small below. The wind was very cold and made her eyes water.  
She screamed in panic, and wanted the red runes to work. They always worked, they always took her to safety when something horrible was going to happen, like when assassins came and killed the nurse or when she thought Fen'Harel was assassin. The red runes would ignite on her skin and make her feel all warm and nice, and take her to papae and he would keep her safe. But the cold fingers were still running along her spine, and the runes didn't work. It was because she was a cuckoo, not a princess.  
"Papae, help!", she screamed, although she knew she shouldn't. He wasn't her papae, Mythal said.  
Siona wanted to close her eyes because she could no longer see Arlathan, only clouds above her, and the ground below was getting bigger and bigger. There were mountains and the green was trees, and ugly buildings everywhere, and little creatures hurrying everywhere like ants. There was a horrible feeling in her stomach, and she had never been so frightened.  
She didn't know what would happen to her if she died now, because there was no Veil, and Falon'Din was still in house arrest. She tried to pray, but couldn't remember any words.  
The little ants were people now, but somehow wrong. They had hairy faces and odd clothes, and all of them were staring at her. Some of them were screaming, and pointing at her, prattling in a language she did not understand. Siona felt the surge of magic as the runes ignited on her skin, throwing a barrier to shield her fall.  
"Papae!", she screamed, but Arlathan was too far, and it didn't work. She fell instead. One of the hairy creatures tried to catch her, but the barrier pushed him away, and she hit the ground.

Although the barrier had softened her fall, it hurt. She landed badly, and her ankle twisted under her, making a crunching noise. Siona yelped for pain, trying to get up but when she tried to put weight on her feet, it felt like red-hot nails inside her flesh. She had never experienced anything like it. Her magic flared uncontrollably, and she fell again, in soft darkness where there were no shemlen.

 

The villagers of Serault stared at little elf who had fallen from the sky.  
"What will we do?", the burly man asked. "Should I get my pitchfork? It is armed."  
"Don't be an idiot, Gerault.", one of the women snapped. "It's scarcely more than a baby. Five or six, by the looks of it."  
"But a mage. It was burning when it fell down."  
"The Marquis will not like this, Jeanne. Chantry has not forgotten Shame of Serault, and we do not need another visit from Divine.", Gerault warned as the woman walked to unconscious little elf and carefully turned it's head.  
"I think this one is a girl.", Jeanne said. "A well-cared one, by the looks of her. I would not have thought they had anything to eat up there. Her poor parents must be beside themselves."  
"Don't even think of keeping it.", Gerault said angrily. "I'm going to tell the Abbess. She will know what to do."

 

\----

Elgar'nan had spent whole morning buried under mountain of paper, missing the brunch. Running a city took awful lot of administrative work, and arranging the training for new mages wasn't helping. It would take long time before they would be ready to march on Andruil and Forgotten Ones, but elvhen warfare had never been fast on either side of the battle.  
He was trying to decide how Keepers could be spared from food production to train the Dalish when the door of his study banged open. It was Senris, his face white as sheet. Elgar'nan had never seen him like that.  
"My lord. We can't find the little lady. When have you seen her last?"  
"Yesterday evening when I tucked her in.", Elgar'nan put down his pen.  
"Siona was coming to see you this morning, to show her writing.", Senris spoke fast. "I let her in you rooms, but nobody has seen the child since. Her tutor alerted me when she didn't arrive in time for lunch. We have already searched the temple, and gate guards have not seen her. There are things missing from her room."  
"What things?"  
"Lady Lindrinae and her sword. And we found this.", Senris pulled something silvery from his pocket, placing it on Elgar'nan's desk.  
The Eldest of Sun stared at silver braid and the ragged, uneven ends, feeling his heart freezing.  
"Fen'Harel, Mythal, or Forgotten Ones. Could be Andruil. Could be my fucking father, for all I know. I don't know, but I will kill them all for this.", he roared and changed his form. The thing made of red mist surged through the open window, heading through the garden towards the main exit and the city.  
"Sound the alarm!", Senris yelled and started to run after his lord. "I want everybody at the temple gates in three minutes."

 

 

"Her memory loss has nothing to do with Tranquility.", Mythal announced as she returned from Ellana's bedroom to Fen'Harel, who was sitting in Abelas' garden. "It is a spell."  
"A spell?"  
"You heard me first time, lad.", Mythal said, sitting comfortably next to him. "You of all people should know how easy it is to manipulate person's memories. I can fix this for you, for a price."  
"What kind of price?", Fen'Harel asked carefully.  
"I know about Siona. Elgar'nan has enjoyed his slow-brewed revenge for a decade now, and it is enough. Although I think you deserve some punishment for your actions, the pantheon cannot be divided in time like this. I will give back your child if you give back mine."  
"You ask me to release Dirthamen and Falon'Din?"  
"Yes. I will deal with my sons as I see best, but we cannot risk keeping them there. Mirrors can be broken too easily. I don't know how Andruil escaped, but it is important to get the rest of us here. Elgar'nan can burn the taint off, and I will guide them back to right path. If you do that, I will remove Elgar'nan's spell, and give justice to Siona."  
"It is a deal.", Fen'Harel nodded, brushing the fingers of his left hand against his forehead, then hers. Mythal repeated the gesture, smiling.  
"It is good to have an understanding, old friend. I already spoke with the girl this morning. She knows the truth, now."  
"How did she take it?"  
"Not well, naturally. Give her some time.", Mythal said, looking at the sky. A peculiar reddish glow was spreading over it.  
"It looks like Elgar'nan is not taking it well either.", she remarked calmly. "We should get inside before he starts to rain thunder and lighting over us."  
"I thought you would take his side in this.", Fen'Harel was surprised.  
"After he valued his revenge higher than soothing my hurt feelings with a truth? For over a decade?", Mythal arched her eyebrows. "You know nothing of women, Fen'Harel. We can have lunch and I will give you tips. It's almost midday."

 

They were having a vegetable soup and civilized discussion when someone banged at the gates. Abelas, who clearly did not enjoy hosting Mythal, stood up and excused himself. A moment later he came back, visibly upset.  
"Tell me true.", Abelas said, his voice cold as he looked at Fen'Harel and Mythal. "Do either of you have anything to do with Siona's disappearance? One of Elgar'nan's sentinels came to ask after her."  
Fen'Harel looked at Mythal, and it was all the answer Abelas needed.   
"All-Mother.", Abelas turned towards her, the familiar title tasting like poison in his mouth.  
"I met the girl this morning. I told her the truth.", Mythal said calmly.   
" _How_ did you tell it?", Abelas demanded. "  
Mythal considered him for a moment, and said then:  
"She came to show something to Elgar'nan. She blamed me for trying to assassinate her. I told her she has nothing to fear from me, because my sun is not her father. She started to cry, like children do, and I told her the rest about your daughter and Fen'Harel. She ran away. Truth is not always kind, Abelas. You know it well."  
Two bright spots of red were burning on Abelas' pale cheeks.  
"My family has had enough of your gifts, All-Mother.", he shouted in rage. "You took my Mathalin for Emerald Knights, and Ameridan for your cursed Inquisition in attempt to save the Dales by working with shemlen. Then like it wasn't enough, you wanted Ellana, too. You made me kill my lover while our child watched! I had to leave her with unknown Dalish roaming in the forest. She didn't even speak their language. I didn't know if she had lived or died until sixteen years later, and even then she was just a name on the paper. And I had to choose which one of those unwashed savages should beget a child on her. Daernthal's balls, she was nineteen! A child! And then you told me she is your new vessel! Haven't I given enough for you?"  
"And now, you two fucking idiots decided - don't look like me that, Fen'Harel, I know you must have had something to do with this - that my granddaughter needs your gifts of truth! You don't treat children like that! You don't first take away everything they know and then let them run away! If something has happened to her, Mythal, I swear I will--"  
"You will what?", Mythal asked coolly.  
"I will pray that Dirthamen kills you again.", Abelas hissed the one thing which he knew would hurt her, hurt her like she had hurt him so many times. Mythal flinched, trying to hide her pain, but failed. Abelas turned around, slammed the front door shut as he left and started running. Cyrion's tavern was full of people who could help him to search.

"'She didn't take it well?'", Fen'Harel asked dangerously. "There is a difference between not taking it well and running away, crying. I thought she was with Elgar'nan, for Void's sake!"  
"I am not to be blamed for this mess. You all told her lies, and I told her the truth.", Mythal remarked. "Sometimes it hurts to accept the truth. I cannot take that away from her."  
"After I find her, we will talk about this.", Fen'Harel warned, his temper rising. He stormed out after Abelas, leaving Mythal alone in the dining room.   
Sighing, she served herself another portion of vegetable soup. People too often mistook justice for happy ending.

 

"My lord!", Senris shouted at red mist swirling in the sky over Arlathan. "My lord, calm down and come here! I have news!"  
When nothing happened, he shook his head and shouted again, louder this time:  
"By the Void, my lord the bloody moron, come down this instant or I swear you will end up in a box!"  
The mist surged downwards, and Senris dashed through the Fade, taking a Fade Step after Fade Step to outrun Elgar'nan's wrath. The mist chased him through the city, and his lungs were hurting as he felt his mana draining. Provoking Elgar'nan was never a wise thing to do, because he acted first and repented afterwards, making no difference between enemies and friends.  
Finally he saw the open rubbish chute and the backpack one of the Shianni's people had found. Senris stopped abruptly and pulled out lady Lindrinae, brandishing the doll at red mist like a holy symbol to protect himself from mortal danger.  
"A group of people were training here.", he shouted, feeling dread as the mist whirled around him. "An apprentice mage's spell went wrong and hit this spot. They heard a child screaming, and when they got here, the chute was open and the backpack was on ground. She fell, my lord. Siona fell."  
Not entirely sure if Elgar'nan was listening, or if he had enough mind to listen, Senris took the doll and threw it down from the hole. The mist let out a terrible scream of rage which pierced his eardrums, and went after the doll. Unable to hear anything, Senris wiped the blood running from his ears and lifted up the cover, using the rest of his mana to shield it shut.  
Amanya approached him, and Senris shivered as her cold healing magic repaired his injury.  
"You locked our lord out.", she stated.  
"It is better this way.", Senris said, his heart heavy. "Either he finds her alive, or he finds her dead. In both cases, he will wreck ruin on Thedas and not on his own people."

 

 


	27. Safe and sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marquis of Serault decides Siona's fate.
> 
> June advises Fen'Harel on how to survive the pantheon soap opera.

"This is a peculiar case.", Elegant Abbess remarked, crossing her jeweled fingers. "I have never heard of an elf falling from a sky before."  
"Serault does not need more problems with Chantry.", Marquis said, pacing the room. He was agitated. "Shame's shadow stretches long and the Seekers are just waiting for an excuse to come here. The Left Hand of Divine seems to think there is something in Tirashan forest after she got the report about strange elves there, and I don't think she would appreciate the cult of Masked Andraste, either."  
"The resolution is simple, Your Grace.", Abbess said, her voice soothing and calm. "The child is an elf. Not ours. Tell your men to take her to the edge of Deepwoods. If there are her people in the woods, they will collect her. If not, she will find peace in the arms of Andraste."  
"Deepwoods is a dark and sinister place.", Marquis said, unsure.  
"It is better chance than the templars will give her.", the Abbess met his gaze.  
"You are right.", Marquis sighed. "Justice is not mercy, and I would not see templar's justice bestowed upon a child. Not even an elf."

So it was decided. Jeanne felt bad for the child, but like the handsome chanter bringing Abbess' message said, it was better than Left Hand's justice. Rumors of Elven Heresy Resolution had reached even the remote Serault, and the girl was a sweet little thing. She was badly frightened, and didn't speak trade tongue at all. But oddly she didn't seem to have the natural suspicion towards humans Jeanne remembered from elves she had met before the Halamshiral Massacre a decade ago. She drank and ate what she was offered, and let Jeanne to look at her ankle, even though it must have hurt. She cried for long time when it was time to go to sleep, but stopped when Jeanne told her to be quiet. Marguerite was still recovering from measles, poor thing, and needed her sleep.  
The Marquis sent pig-farmer's wife to see the child. It was known that the woman read more books than it was proper for farmer's wife and there were rumors about her being from Tevinter. Some said even that she had been a magister once. But villagers of Serault kept their silence, because she was unnaturally good at healing, and shared her skills with those who didn't ask questions.  
On third day, it was decided she was well enough to leave. Although the child limped still, and could not run, she at least could put weight on her foot. Jeanne told herself that surely the wild elves living somewhere in the forest would care for the child, and she would not get eaten by dark things which dwelled in Tirashan. She couldn't quite convince herself, and in a moment of pity, she took sweet cakes, flask of mead and warm cloak which was too small for her own girls, putting items into sack. She gave it to child when Silent Hunter came for her.  
"May the Masked Andraste bless you.", she said, wiping her eyes as the Silent Hunter lifted the child up to saddle. The child didn't clearly understand what was happening. She said something in her odd, lilting language and smiled. A lovely little creature, she was.

 

 

At first, Siona had been relieved when the quiet shemlen male took her deep into forest and left her there. The woman who had cared for her in the village had been kind, but the big man who had taken her sword frightened her. She had cried when they took it away, trying to explain it wasn't hers, but Falon'Din's, but they didn't listen. It had made her feel safer even though she knew she couldn't really use it.  
During day, the forest was pretty, but when the darkness began to fall, Siona knew all too well that she didn't have weapon, she was all alone, and she couldn't run. The shemlen mage had cast a spell on her foot, but the ankle was still swollen, and it hurt to walk. It was much colder than in Arlathan. The shemlen did not seem to have barriers around their village, which probably meant they didn't choose the weather they wanted, either. The house where she had stayed had been very small and odd, too.  
Siona couldn't think what else to do, so she just sat on the moss, leaning against a big stone, and opened the sack. There were three honey cakes, and a bottle filled with sweet-smelling drink, and a thick woolen cloak. She wrapped the cloak around her and nibbled the cake. It tasted good, but the drink was better. It made her feel all warm inside, numbing the pain in her ankle into distant ache, and she didn't feel that frightened anymore. After fourth sip, she closed the bottle and watched stars dancing at the sky. A red glow was emerging from the east. This shemlen drink was excellent. She had not known drink could make people all warm and happy. If she ever got back home, she would have it every day.  
Her head felt heavy and dizzy, and before Siona knew it, she had fallen asleep.

 

She had a lovely dream. She dreamed that a huge black dragon crashed into forest, breaking trees as it landed, but it was really papae. He was wearing a black and silver armor Siona had seen on the armor stand, but never on him, because it was meant for fighting in a war. It looked very pretty in the starlight. It shone, and she saw that he was holding lady Lindrinae in his hand, and Falon'Din's sword was there, too.  
She smiled sleepily at him when he came, and although she tried, she couldn't really stay awake. She reached for lady Lindrinae, and pulled the doll against her chest, closing her eyes again.  
"Siona.", papae said, sounding astonished. "Are you drunk?"  
Siona didn't understand what he meant, but papae was here in her dream, and lady Lindrinae, and he had even found her sword. She opened her eyes a fraction, pushed the sweet-smelling bottle to him, in case he wanted to have a happy dream too, and fell asleep again.

 

"I thought this would happen three hundred years later.", Elgar'nan said. He held Siona over his arm as the child heaved out the contents of her stomach. Shaking his head, he cast another spell to neutralize poison. She bent over again, retching until there was nothing coming out.  
"I feel horrible, papae.", she wiped her eyes. "This shemlen drink is _evil_."  
A part of him wanted to make a witty remark, but it would have been fun three- no, four hundred years later. Not now. She was practically a baby, who had no business on Thedas - or anywhere - alone, and who had been poisoned by mead. Who in his right mind gave a bottle of mead to a baby? Those villagers who had taken her sword? There was no retribution to be dealt on them anymore. They were gone, like the many others in the northeastern part of Orlais. The runes engraved on the blade had called him like a beacon, feeding his hunger for vengeance. First coherent thought he remembered was holding the blade in his hands and standing in the wreckage of village. He had felt a faint tinge of his own magic from north, and taken flight again.  
"I know, princess.", he said, stroking her ruined hair.  
She flinched visibly, and her face fell.  
"What is it?"  
"It's not true.", Siona said in small voice, not looking at him. "Mythal said I'm not a princess, you are not my papae, and I'm a cuckoo."  
"What?"  
Swallowing tears, she tried to explain:  
"That nasty bird who kills the real baby birds and pretends to be their baby instead."  
"I know what a cuckoo is. You are _not_ one.", Elgar'nan told her firmly.  
"But she said I'm not yours, but Fen'Harel's, and he just sleeps on his throne and does nasty things like puts people in a box. And she said my mother is alive, and it's horrible. I've tried to be very good da'len. I learned my letters and everything and didn't call Mythal the Evil One because Senris told me not to. But mamae let me think she was dead because she doesn't want to see me. Fen'Harel doesn't want me and she doesn't want me and even grandfather doesn't want me because I'm not allowed to go to his house anymore. Nobody loves me because I'm a cuckoo!", Siona cried hysterically. "I just wanted to show you my letters and Mythal said that everything was a lie!"

By Void, what a mess.

It had started with revenge. Elgar'nan could not deny that. He had agreed to Ellana's proposition because he generally liked children, and her desperation over her mortality had sparked his pity. Getting one over Fen'Harel had been added bonus he could not resist. But when Ellana fell, and he was left alone with the baby, things changed. He wasn't entirely sure when it had happened. Had it been one of those sleepless nights with a wailing baby who seemed only to calm down when he walked back and forth in the temple garden? Or the day when she started to smile back at him? Due to his volatile nature, Elgar'nan had never been one with wide circle of friends, and he had started rather enjoy the warm and fuzzy feeling he got when the baby beamed at him. It was nice to feel wanted. Siona was too small to understand the reasons for careful monitoring which was always there in Elgar'nan's every interaction with others, even with Mythal. Especially with Mythal. Siona shamelessly demanded attention from him, clinging to hem of his robes, and wanted to play one more round of peekaboo when he wanted to sleep, not sharing the common sentiment that forcing Elgar'nan to do things against his will was a suicidal trait.  
Elgar'nan didn't know how it had happened, but he knew he loved her, and it had not been about revenge for years, now. He looked at naked pain on her little face, and tried to find the right words.

"Little one.", he said honestly. "I might not be the man who made you, but I will always be your father, for as long as you want me to be. I love you. Your mamae left you in my care, because she was mortal, and knew you would not be. She thought Fen'Harel was not ready to care for a baby. Sometimes people are not. They need more time."  
"It's my fault.", Siona said. Her eyes were red.  
"It is not anyone's fault. Sometimes things simply do not happen in a way we think.", Elgar'nan said gently. "Your mamae thought Fen'Harel needed more time, and asked me to be your papae. I was happy to have you, da'len. Before she could tell Fen'Harel about you, the shemlen attacked, and your mother was lost to us. We all thought she had died. Fen'Harel searched for her for a long time, because he loves her very much. He finally found your mother this spring, when you were still a baby."  
"Wasn't she really dead?"  
"She was imprisoned by shemlen, and her magic was taken away from her. She got it back but it does not work right yet. You were staying at your grandfather's house when Fen'Harel found your mother and brought her home. Fen'Harel and Abelas were both so excited that they forgot to shield you. You grew up so much because your mamae's magic was all over the house. Do you remember it?"  
"I remember Fen'Harel, and the bookcase.", Siona sniffed, the sobs calming down a bit.  
"Yes.", Elgar'nan nodded. "We did not tell you then, because your mamae is still very sick. She was a prisoner for long time, and like I said, her magic does not work right yet. Grandfather Abelas is caring for her, and you can't go to his house, because you might grow too much too soon. But when she is well again, you will see her. We can to go Abelas' house or she can come to our home, if you wish."  
"I want her to come to your temple.", Siona said nervously. "If it is all right. I don't want to see her alone. Can you come, too?"  
"When she is well again, we will see her together.", Elgar'nan promised, wiping the tears from her face. "But Siona, I am very sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I didn't want to, and it was wrong to do so. I should not have kept secrets from you."  
Her lower lip started to wobble again.  
"Does it mean I have to move to Fen'Harel's dusty temple? It's very ugly from the outside, and there are no sentinels, and even he doesn't live there much. Will he put me into box if I'm not behaving well? He has only one sweater, and I don't want to wear shabby clothes like he does."  
"His clothes are very shabby.", Elgar'nan agreed. "But da'len, do you remember what I told you? Fen'Harel was the man who made you, but it doesn't mean things must change just because you know it now. He would not put you into a box, and you could have more than one sweater, but you don't have to live with him unless you want to."  
"I don't want to.", Siona shook her head. "I just want to go home to Senris and the rest of the sentinels, and pretend this never happened. I want you to be my papae again and forget everything Evil One told me. Can you make it so?"  
The temptation was great to nod and agree, but Elgar'nan grit his teeth together, trying to be a better man, and said:  
"I could do it, little one, but I won't make you forget. I will always be your papae, and you will always be my princess, but it is so because I love you, not because you don't remember. If I made you forget, it would take away your choice, and it would not be right."  
Siona was quiet for a moment, thinking of his words.  
"Papae?", she began.  
"Yes?"  
"If Evil One calls me a cuckoo again, can I put maggots in her slippers?"  
"Yes.", Elgar'nan promised readily. "I know an excellent spot for green slimy ones, near the public baths. She hates those. And then we can bury her temple with maggots."  
"I don't think we should.", Siona said. "The sentinels might get upset. Kallian does not like maggots. She told me that her cousin dared her to eat one when she was small."

 

They shared the remaining two honey cakes, but didn't drink mead. The day was slowly dawning, and Elgar'nan had the unpleasant sensation of being watched. Something was stirring in the forest, he was sure of it. Finding her had taken four days, and the wreckage he had caused was sure to draw attention from Forgotten Ones and the Chantry alike. He was starting to feel exhausted and his mana reserves were almost spent. It had not been his best decision to leave alone without backup and with a child to attend to, but he could not have chosen otherwise. Not after Senris had thrown lady Lindrinae into garbage chute. Sometimes that man was too smart for his own good.  
"Siona. We should go home, now.", he said, keeping his voice calm.  
"Walking hurts.", she said, putting lady Lindrinae in sack and slipping the drawstring over her slim shoulder. "My ankle made a crunching noise when I fell from the sky. Shemlen put a spell on it, but it didn't help much."  
"Let me see.", Elgar'nan knelt down, taking off his gauntlets. Her right ankle was swollen and discolored, and he heard her sharp intake of breath as he prodded the skin with careful fingers.  
"The bone is fractured.", he said. "I will call a healer as soon as we get home."  
"But how do we get there?", she asked, sounding worried.  
"I can--"  
Elgar'nan's words were interrupted by his wards alerting him of incoming arrow. Throwing a barrier around Siona, he handed her the sword.  
"If someone gets past me, you will need this."  
"But I don't know what to do!", she was genuinely frightened.  
"Hit them with the pointy end. As hard as you can.", Elgar'nan said and turned to face their enemy, drawing his swords.

Siona had often watched papae sparring with sentinels, but it was nothing like this. Real battles were frightening. Full of noise and shouts and weapons slashing. She had never seen so much blood. She pushed herself up although it hurt, holding the sword in her right hand. There were so many elves surrounding papae now. She couldn't understand why elves were trying to hurt them? Why they would want to hurt papae? They were Dalish, because they had vallaslin.  
You shouldn't hold your weapon so hard your knuckles were white, Senris had said. It will make your movements messy and tire you out. Grip it with thumb and first two fingers, and curl the rest of your fingers around the hilt loosely. Hold it firmly but nicely, like a baby bird. Siona tried to think of baby birds, and then she heard a twig snapping behind her.

There was a man who had Andruil's vallaslin on his face. He had dark hair and golden eyes like grandfather's. There was a mage staff on his back, and a glowing ethereal blade in his hands.  
"Our lady wants you. Put down your sword and I will not hurt you, da'len.", he said in low voice. It was elvish, but his accent was odd, and it was hard to make out some words.  
Siona shook her head, panicking. She tried think of baby birds and everything sentinels said about swords, but it just didn't make any sense. What she was supposed to do first?  
The man stepped closer, lowering his blade, and tried to grab her. Siona couldn't get away, not with her bad foot, so she did only thing she could. She made fairy lights, and they were prettiest and brightest she had ever made. For a second, she couldn't see anything but blinking lights in front of her, and then she hit him with the pointy end, as hard as she could. Her sword got stuck into something, and she yanked hard to get it out.  
"Lord Enethriel is hurt!", a female voice yelled, and when fairy lights faded and Siona could see again, her blade was all red. The man in front of her was holding hands against his stomach, and he had horrible grimace on his face. Siona stared at him, and it felt like she was not getting enough air, no matter how hard she gulped.  
Then somebody caught her again, but it was papae, and there was blood on his face.  
"Siona.", he said, and it was not his papae voice. It was the voice of Eldest of the Sun, which spoke from the high throne in the temple. "I'm going to shift. I need you to hold on as tight as you can. Do not fall."  
He lifted her up on his shoulders, sheathing her blade and both of his, and then Siona felt a burst of magic. It was red and felt like dying glow of hot embers.  
"Black Death!", one of the evil elves screamed, and Siona tried not to fall from dragon's back. It was the same black dragon she had dreamed about. She was wedged between two spikes, and she put her arms around one in front of her. She saw dragon breathing lighting at someone as they took off, rising high in the air. Siona closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against his scales. She didn't want to be on Thedas anymore. She wanted to go home.

\--

For last four days, Fen'Harel had been camping at the front doors of Elgar'nan's temple with Abelas. Or not with Abelas, precisely, because the sentinel still refused to talk to him. To be exact, they were sitting on the same stair. He was stuck with June, while Abelas had several Mythal's sentinels, Cyrion, and Kallian gathered around him, offering encouragement and food.  
He couldn't believe it. He had spoken with his daughter _twice_ , and mere hours after she learned he was her father, she fell to her death through a garbage chute. Fen'Harel was ready to believe in Maker, now, because a man could not be simply so unlucky as he had been and not to have some vast cosmic power set against him.  
"Do you want a cold sausage?", June asked conversationally. "We've been breeding nugs in the cellars of my temple. I have to admit I like the taste, although it's not refined."  
Fen'Harel accepted the offering. Although he didn't share June's durgen'len sensibilities, he was hungry.  
"It never ceases to amaze me how easily the pantheon can cook up a tearing drama between us, and this was only with half of our brethren present.", June remarked. "I think I'm lucky because Andruil and I can't have children together. Was she doing well when you saw her?"  
Fen'Harel tried to think of diplomatic answer.  
"She was.. lively. And tainted, I fear."  
June shrugged.  
"It was to be expected. She was always a bit challenging wife."  
"That's to put it mildly.", Fen'Harel chuckled.  
"You should follow my example, Fen. If I cared overly much about Andruil's actions, I would be madder than she by now. Take up a hobby. Raise nugs or build something nice. It will keep you happy and composed while others live through their melodramas. If you are boring enough, others will leave you be."  
"Take Elgar'nan, for example.", June was warming to his topic. "Although you and I worked together, I built the box. I made the Veil. But the only person he blames about those things is you. That's because he can provoke you to fight back."  
"You do have a point.", Fen'Harel sighed. "Maybe I should try your way of thinking"  
"You should.", June told him. "But I'm not convinced whether you are actually able."  
June took a small, shining cube from his pocket and peered at writing appearing on it's surface. "The gate guards inform me that we have an incoming dragon.", he mentioned absently, tinkering with the cube. "Applying the magical signature check, now. Accepting.."  
"What's that?"  
"I will explain the main principles to you if you swear you will sit down and listen for next fifteen minutes.", June said with a hint of smile. "This is a remote control for city barriers. It helps me to recognize who should get in, and who shouldn't."  
Fen'Harel was going to ask a question when a black dragon swooshed over them. He got a glimpse of something laying against it's neck before dragon flew over the temple walls and landed inside. Fen'harel jumped up on his feet, running towards the main doors.

June shook his head. Some people just didn't do patience. Putting the cube back to his pocket, he smiled a the noise coming from behind him.  
"Let me in, Elgar'nan!", Dread Wolf yelled, banging at the door. "Let me in right now!"  
June snickered. For all his talk about how he had grown up and changed, Fen'Harel was just like his young, hotheaded self. Fifteen minutes was too much to ask for, if one picked his moment right.

 

\--a week later--

 

"I'm sorry, but I'm under strict orders not to let anyone in, unless they have been blinded first with hot iron.", Senris said solemnly to Fen'Harel and Abelas who had arrived to demand an audience with Elgar'nan.  
"Are you serious?"  
"Very.", Senris nodded. "Even I am not allowed to enter his bedroom, but the healers assure me that my lord's pitiful groans about impeding death are baseless."  
"Can you elaborate?", Abelas asked.  
"Well, the little lady picked up some kind of shemlen disease. It's very contagious and my lord informs me that it's also extremely painful. Nobly thinking of possible danger to our population, my lord personally cared for little lady during her illness, and got infected himself. Being the Eldest of Sun, he naturally was never sick during his childhood, and therefore has no resistance. That is what the Dalish healers tell me.", Senris said smoothly.  
"More incoming.", Merrill hurried to door, carrying a large jar which smelled like Dalish medicine. Six servants followed in her wake, rolling wooden barrels which emitted somewhat familiar smell.  
"What is that?", Fen'Harel wrinkled his nose.  
"Iced mud and some herb salve.", Senris said, knocking at the door and pushing his head in. The darkness inside the apartment was absolute.  
"My lord, the servants are coming to fill your bath. They will have to put some lights on."  
There was no answer at first, but then Fen'Harel heard light steps coming closer.  
"Senris.", Siona's voice said from the darkness. "Papae needs thin gloves. He keeps scratching although I tell him it will only make it worse."  
"How bad is it?"  
"I think we have gotten past the phase where we just wanted to die, or at least I am. Papae changed his mind after he looked at mirror. Now he says that death is preferable."  
Senris sighed and opened a drawer, taking out a pair of thin silk gloves. A small child's hand reached from the dark to take them, and when her sleeve fell back, Fen'Harel saw her skin was covered with measles rash.


	28. Small rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'Harel faces the great trials of fatherhood. He also learns why desire demons wear tassels over their nipples.

It was late evening in Arlathan. Fen'Harel was sitting in his garden and going through of his notes on Rite of Tranquility when he heard his gate creaking open. Startled, he looked up and saw Siona, who had unlocked the gate with touch of her magic. Nobody except him had done it before and Fen'Harel found the sensation unnerving and new. The child was riding a small white halla, and she was accompanied by Elgar'nan and his sentinels.  
"Good evening, Fen'Harel.", Siona said as Elgar'nan lifted her down. She held Elgar'nan's hand and looked nervous. The child was carrying a backpack and wearing too big grey robes with a short sword hanging from her belt.  
"Andaran atishan, da'len.", Fen'Harel replied."Elgar'nan."  
"Fen'Harel. Could you babysit for few days?", the Eldest of Sun asked. "I'm having a meeting with Mythal in my temple, and it might get a bit heated. We are going to discuss acceptable ways to talk to children, and whether a detention of over three thousand years is enough punishment for Dirthamen. That boy needs to be put on his place, finally, and I want to solve the issue before you let them out."  
"I see.", Fen'Harel said. "I agree about Dirthamen and yes, I'm willing to watch Siona for you."  
"Excellent.", Elgar'nan beamed. "Now, princess. Behave well for Fen'Harel. I will come to collect you when it's over."  
Siona looked a bit nervous, and tugged his hand, gesturing Elgar'nan to bend down. She whispered something in his ear. Fen'Harel couldn't make out what it was, except the word 'box'.  
"Yes. Fen'Harel.", Elgar'nan turned to him, looking every bit the leader of the pantheon. "You are _not_ allowed to put her into a box or lock her behind eluvian under _any_ circumstances. And it would be nice if you could to go tailor shop in the artisan quarter and pick up her clothes I've ordered. They have already been paid. Lunch is at midday, dinner at five, and her bedtime is at seven. Make sure she eats her vegetables. Siona hates peas. No reading in the bed after the lights have been turned off. And whatever you do, do not forget to tuck in lady Lindrinae with her. Otherwise you won't get any sleep at all."  
Finishing his instructions, Elgar'nan nodded to his sentinels and turned to leave.  
"Papae!", Siona said disapprovingly. "You forgot goodbye kiss and hug."  
"Of course.", Elgar'nan replied, picking Siona up. He embraced her, rocking her gently a bit. The god of vengeance placed a kiss on her forehead and recieved one on his cheek in return.  
"Lady Lindrinae too.", Siona said, pulling a doll out from her backpack and holding it out for him.  
Sighing, Elgar'nan kissed the doll's head and hugged it.  
"Can I go now?", he asked.  
"Do not let Mythal bite you.", Siona said sternly. "She's evil."  
"I will do my best to avoid it.", Elgar'nan promised - looking way too innocent for Fen'Harel to believe a word he said - and left with his sentinels.

 

Considering that his foray into fatherhood had began with being buried under a bookshelf, Fen'Harel was not truly surprised to end up like this. He was sitting on a ugly Dalish blanket with a doll, while Siona poured tea into small cups. She had produced beautifully carved tea set and enchanted flask from her backpack, complete with silver cutlery and two frilly cakes. Elgar'nan's extravagance was rubbing off her. Usually when children came for sleep over, they didn't pack pastry forks.  
"This is lady Lindrinae.", Siona pointed at blond doll.   
"Nice to meet you, lady Lindrinae.", Fen'Harel said seriously and sipped his tea. It was easily worst tea he had ever tasted, but he swallowed it anyway, holding back a grimace.   
"Do you like the blanket?", Siona asked politely. "It's gift from mamae to papae. It looks a bit Dalish, I think, but Senris says that sometimes people have no taste and one must not sneer at them."  
"Do you like riding?", Fen'Harel tried to find a suitable topic to converse. He didn't know what to talk about with her.  
"I don't.", she admitted, neatly breaking a little piece of the cake with her pastry fork. "But my ankle still hurts a bit when I get tired, and Senris says it's because shemlen healing is utter crap and they don't know first thing about elvhen bones. I don't know what utter crap means. At least riding halla isn't as frightening as riding a dragon. I'm scared of heights."  
"When you have ridden a dragon?"  
"When I fell, and papae came to take me home.", Siona said, looking down at her plate. "There were Dalish in the forest, but they wanted to take me to their lady and papae wouldn't let them. I think I might have killed an Enethriel. He cried when I hit him with the pointy end. There was an awful lot of blood, and I was so frightened. I still have nightmares."  
Fen'Harel blinked. It couldn't be.  
"What do you mean he was an Enethriel?", he asked slowly. "What did he look like?"  
"He was adult, but not very old. A mage. Dark hair but his eyes were golden, like grandfather's. He had Andruil's vallaslin. The rest of the Dalish called him lord Enethriel. Is Enethriel some kind of Dalish title?", Siona asked, not meeting his gaze.  
"I think it was his name, da'len.", Fen'Harel said, taking another sip of bad tea to wet his dry mouth. By Void, how one should explain to obviously traumatized child that she might have killed her older brother in self-defence? It could be another Dalish man with the same name, age and gift of magic, but what were the chances for that?  
"Fen'Harel, do you think I killed him?", Siona looked at him, meeting his eyes for first time. There was agony written on her face, and she was wringing her small hands. "When I ask from papae or Senris, they say that I did what I had to, and I shouldn't think of it. But I keep thinking of it, and I have to _know_. Dread Wolf, could you please look in the Fade and find out if I killed him?"

\--

It was different, effortless to move through the Fade now that the Veil was gone. It took him most of the night, but finally Fen'Harel was able to locate a spirit who had been in Tirashan forest recently. It was a spirit of love, who showed Fen'Harel a memory of young man with Andruil's vallaslin kneeling next to a bath tube. Although he was much older now, Fen'Harel could see traces of a boy he remembered on man's face. There was a woman in the bath tube, her back towards the viewer. Enethriel was washing her hair. He massaged her scalp, spreading the soap with practiced fingers, and bent to whisper something in her ear.

"What they are doing?", a childish voice asked behind his back. "I'm glad Enethriel isn't dead, but I hope he is not going to bite her. It's evil. Shouldn't they have a bigger bath tube if they both are going to bathe?"  
Fen'Harel turned around. Siona was standing behind him and watching the memory unfold before them with great curiosity.  
"Siona! What are you doing here?"  
"I followed you.", she said, beaming with pride. "I got lost once because you were so fast, but there was a purple naked lady with fiery eyes who told me where you went, and she even took me here when I asked politely. She said she always gives people what they desire because it makes her happy. I think we are going to be friends. She promised to come visit me when I'm home again, and said I can call her Lisel."  
Fen'Harel counted slowly to ten, trying to smother his rising panic.  
"Da'len, did you promise something to spirit of desire?", he asked.  
"Of course not.", Siona looked offended. "Grandfather made me swear I won't make any binding promises to anyone before I'm legally adult. I told that to nice lady, and she laughed a lot. She said I was an adorable pup, which isn't true because you're not really a wolf, and we had a very interesting discussion on our way here. Do you know that desire spirits wear those odd-looking tassel things on their nipples because it's cold in the Beyond?"  
"I didn't know that.", Fen'Harel got distracted. "Do you often wander around in the Fade by yourself?"  
"Papae doesn't like it. He says that he got enough of that with Falon'Din prancing around Beyond all night long, and I should wait until I'm a lot older. The evening meal tea makes me heavy and sleepy, and I just sleep.", Siona explained cheerily. "Except you didn't make me drink it, and I forgot to tell."  
"Forgot to tell?", Fen'Harel arched his eyebrows.  
"I tricked you.", Siona admitted. "I thought you wouldn't mind."  
She looked past him and asked:  
"Fen'Harel, what they are doing in the bathtub?"  
Fen'Harel glanced behind his back and decided it was time to leave elsewhere.  
"They are making babies. We should get going. Would you like to meet a spirit of Wisdom?"  
Before she had time to answer, Fen'Harel took her arm and whisked her away.

\-- 

He spent the next day lecturing about Fade and the nature of different spirits one could encounter there. Siona was very interested in the topic, although she was still waiting for desire demon to come to visit her. Elgar'nan should deal with it, Fen'Harel decided, and made sure she actually drank the nasty tea that night. He would not normally deny someone's chance to wander in the Fade, but this was his daughter, who was a decade old and knew only two spells. He had not expected to agree with Elgar'nan about anything, but this time, he too preferred Siona to be older and more experienced before she ventured there again.

Fen'Harel  was happily walking in the Fade when he woke up in most unpleasant way in the middle of the night. Siona was pulling his lower lip.  
"What do you think you are doing?"  
"Checking your teeth.", the child told him. "You must have bitten a lot of people because they call you Dread Wolf. I thought you had more teeth. They aren't even very sharp."  
She looked actually disappointed. Fen'Harel sighed and pulled the pillow over his head.  
"Shianni told me that babies come from color-coded eggs. Do you lay eggs like Mythal does, or do you have puppies like fiery-eyed lady claimed?"   
"Who told you that Mythal lays eggs?", Fen'Harel asked, peeking under his pillow.  
"It's obvious. I asked grandfather and he told me that Mythal is a dragon. Dragons have eggs. For a hahren, you are a bit slow, and not very wise.", Siona told him kindly. "But don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone except Shianni. I will ask her to teach you where the babies come from so you'll know. If you tell other Creators that you think people make babies in a bathtub, they will laugh at you, and you will be so embarrassed."  
"Don't. Just don't.", Fen'Harel groaned. "Go to sleep."  
"I can't.", Siona wailed. "Your temple is empty and frightening. Nobody has tucked me in, and I'm all alone in my room. I'm never alone at home. I always have one of the sentinels watching over me and Papae sleeps in the next room. Can I sleep here with you?"  
"If you promise to be quiet and let me sleep.", Fen'Harel gave in.  
The child clapped her hands and slipped under the covers, pressing her icy little feet against his legs. Fen'Harel yelped.  
"Fenedhis!", he cursed, turning around. "Why are you freezing like that?"  
"Nobody put a warming spell in my bed when I went to sleep.", Siona explained, looking hurt. "Are you poor, hahren? You don't have servants or sentinels, your house is cold, and you own only one sweater. A very ugly sweater."  
"If I buy another, will you be quiet and let me sleep?"  
The child looked at him, a slight smile on her lips.  
"If you let me pick new clothes for you, Fen'Harel. From a real tailor."  
"All right. But no more talk, da'len."

\-- 

"What are you doing, Fen'Harel?", she asked on the third day.  
"Shaving my hair."  
"But why you do it? I would like to see your hair."  
"It's a habit. I used to take great pride in my hair when I was younger. But after the Veil and the destruction of Elvhenan, I decided to shave it off to remind myself of my mistakes.", Fen'Harel said, sharpening the knife.  
"But why you keep doing it?", Siona asked, sitting on his dressing table. "You already fixed what you did. The Veil is gone and the People are happy. Everyone has magic again. Why shouldn't you have a hair now, since you liked it so much?"  
Fen'Harel looked at his reflection in the mirror. She was right, in her own childish way. The original reasons for self-punishment were gone.   
"You could have nice things. Like braids. I could do your hair. I could even grow it for you. Papae taught me a wonderful spell to restore my hair after I cut it.", the child announced, flinging her legs back and forth.  
"I'm starting to think you see me as some kind of doll.", Fen'Harel said, giving her a sideways look. "First you blackmail me into buying new clothes and then you try to make me grow my hair."  
"Lady Lindrinae is happy with pretty hair and new clothes. You could be, too.", Siona replied. "I saw the deepest blue silk brocade which would look lovely on you, and papae gave me obscure amount of pocket money. I think he suspects you don't have enough coins to feed me."

\-- 

His daughter loved being at tailor's. She spent hours pouring over the pattern drawings and arguing the fabric samples with assistants.  
"Not ruffles.", she said with disdain. "He is not a ruffle man. You can put a matte satin ribbon on edge of the cuffs, but no lace. Are you opposed to embroidery, hahren?"  
"If it is ugly.", Fen'Harel replied. He was surrounded by elves armed with measurement tape and needles, and could not move unless he was willing to risk to get poked by a needle.  
"This pattern for the cuffs.", Siona ruled, pointing at one of the books spread in front of her. "It should be the exact color of the fabric, so it won't be visible from distance."  
"What about the cut?", the tailor looked at Fen'Harel with appraising eye.  
"Form-fitting. Shianni says that he has nice figure, so you will emphasize it. Belt should be pearly, iridescent white. You can use the wolf motif in that, simplified, but not anywhere else.", Siona announced firmly. "Cut the skirt of robes large so it will whirl dramatically when he turns his back at someone. A slight A-line."  
"How much time you spend with Shianni?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"She and Zathrian are tutoring me. Zathrian teaches me magic and science, and Shianni teaches me how to make people do what I want. Papae says she has a good hand on practical ruling.", Siona said, undisturbed.  
"I have to say, lady Siona, you have an impeccable taste for one so young.", the tailor admired the finished sketch.  
"Thank you, Antistia.", Siona nodded gracefully. "We need one in the blue brocade I pointed out for you, with blueberry-colored embroidery, and another in creamy white with deepest purple accents. The fabric bolt you showed me first, the one which is almost black. The color enhances his eyes and makes them look lovely."  
"Don't I have anything to say in this, da'len?", Fen'Harel queried.  
"No.", Siona told him firmly. "I have seen the way you dress. It's shabby."

 

Back in his comfortable sweater, Fen'Harel sipped tailor's excellent wine as he watched his daughter try on her new clothes. She chatted happily with the tailor as she slipped into dusty pink dress. Elgar'nan evidently liked to dress her into blue-toned pastels, and as a hobby painter, Fen'Harel had nothing against that, but something in Siona's new clothes was bothering him. It took four dresses until he could point out what it was. She was beautiful, like a spirit from the Fade, but not real. All the dresses reminded him from the meeting in Elgar'nan's temple, where he had seen a wisp of silvery starlight sitting at Elgar'nan's feet. He couldn't imagine her ever getting dirty or breathless like children were wont to do when they played.  
"Siona.", he called the child who was admiring the fifth dress, a mint-green gown with flower embroidery and dark green sash around her waist. "What do you wear when you have friends coming to temple? Or when you go to city to play?"  
"What do you mean?", she asked, staying unmoving as one of the shop assistants arranged her hair into delicate little bun.  
"Your friends. You have them, don't you?"  
"Of course.", she laughed. "I play with papae's sentinels in the garden, and Senris built me a swing hanging from a tree. They all are my friends. Once I got grandfather to play hide and seek with me and Senris, and it was great fun! The sentinels are really good at it. And I think the fiery-eyed lady from the Fade is my friend, too. She said she wants to be."  
"I meant children of your own age."  
"I have seen them from time to time in the city, when I'm escorted from home to grandfather's house. They usually just stare at me, and I'm supposed to wave at them. And I think some of the temple servants and priests might have children. I'm not sure.", Siona replied with perfect contentment.  
Fen'Harel crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Do you have any practical fabrics in here?", he asked from the tailor.

\--

"I hate you!", Siona screamed as Fen'Harel left the tailor shop with her. "You can't make me wear ugly things like you do! I don't want to meet other children! I don't want to explore Arlathan! It's dangerous and full of holes. I don't want to make friends of my own age! I want to be pretty, not to play in a mud with some dirty ball! It's slavery, Fen'Harel! You can't make me your slave!"  
The people were staring at them, and Fen'Harel ignored them with all arrogance he could muster.  
"Stop yelling.", he said firmly.  
"I won't wear your ugly things!", Siona reached for the dressing bag, where her _real_ clothes were, but stupid Dread Wolf held it so high that she couldn't get it. He was smirking, and she got really mad.  
"I will not do what you say! You can't order me to be ugly!", she screamed at the top of her lungs and kicked his ankle.  
"Siona.", Fen'Harel's voice was low and commanding as he took a hold on her waist and lifted her up until they both were on same level. "Your clothes are not ugly. They are normal clothes, meant for playing, running and all the things children are supposed to do. You will come with me, you will stop shouting, and you will do what I say."  
"I won't.", Siona swore with vengeance, and gathering her magic, she slammed her second spell against Fen'Harel's face. Long, perfect waves of ginger hair sprouted from Fen'Harel's scalp, momentarily blinding him. Siona bit his hand, and just like Senris had promised, Fen'Harel loosened his grip enough for her to grab the bag and run.

 

Zevran sighed. As the prison cells went, his current one had the best view ever, and there were no rats. His cell was a bluish force field placed on a top of tall pillar in the central market of Arlathan, furnished with bunk, ever-growing fruit tree and little fountain for a water supply. Zevran was getting worried for the pace of elvhen justice. Chances were that he might die of old age before Mythal had time to judge him. It had been six weeks since the unfortunate accident with the misfired spell and All-Father's daughter, and still, he had not seen anyone after the city guards had stuffed him here. They had explained that it was for his own security, because there were thirty vengeful sentinels in black armor who wanted to have a chat with him, and if they succeeded, he would not live long enough to have a trial. Zevran had met Elgar'nan's sentinels in Halamshiral and he counted himself lucky to have nice, strong force field between them and him. 

A movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention. A little girl wearing drab brown trousers and off-white tunic was climbing up the ornate pillar like a squirrel, and she was holding a.. dressing bag hoisted over her shoulder.  
"Isn't that a bit dangerous?", Zevran asked conversationally. "What will you do if you fall?"  
"Are you evil?", she asked, sounding a bit breathless as she pulled herself up over the ledge.  
"No, my little flower. I'm just notoriously unlucky with ranged magic.", Zevran admitted.  
"All right, then.", she said. "Do you mind company? I'm defending my right to wear beautiful clothes instead of drab ugly things."  
Zevran considered it.  
"That's way better than most causes of rebellion I've heard.", he said. "I can't offer advice how to break in Mythal's prison cell, but if you can find a way in, you are welcome to share my humble abode."  
"Siona! Come down this instant!", a man's voice yelled from the ground. The girl pushed the dressing bag through the force field carefully, and when it slid through the blue force field harmlessly, she took a moment to shout at her advisory.  
"I told you, you will not make me ugly!", she shouted back and crawled through the force field. It fizzled at contact, but let her inside Zevran's cell.  
"I didn't know it worked just like that.", Zevran remarked, surprised.  
"What is your name?", Siona asked, pulling open the dressing bag.  
"Zevran."  
"Zevran, would you be so kind and hold your bed sheet around me so people won't see me changing clothes?"  
"For a shining beauty like you, always.", he promised.

 

Few moments later, Siona was dressed in pale lavender gown with little, glittering beads on the bodice. She stroked the expensive fabric with her hands, looking pleased.  
"You look somehow familiar.", Zevran began, but his attempts of discussion were interrupted by another visitor.  
"Solas!", Zevran greeted the newcomer. "I almost didn't recognize you for the hair! A magnificent look, my friend! How popular I have become, all sudden! Are you another soldier of beauty against the ugliness of the world?"  
"Siona. Get out from there.", Solas said, sounding furious as he pushed the stray strands of hair away from his face.  
"I won't.", the girl replied. "I'm going to stay here. Zevran likes beautiful things."  
"That is one of my well-known merits, yes.", the Antivan nodded.  
"Siona. Come out. Now.", he commanded, and Siona gave up, looking stubborn as she collected the dressing bag and attempted to step through the force field, but it didn't work. She was met with power as hard and unyielding as stone.  
"I can't.", she said, staring at Solas. "Dread Wolf, I think I'm stuck in here."

\--

Freeing Siona from Zevran's cell had taken three hours and two extremely amused Mythal's sentinels. They had explained that her ability to enter was tied to fact that she was the victim of Zevran's crime. Mythal wished to encourage elves to solve their squabbles without her intervention, so she had her servants to build the cells to give a chance for that. The Goddess of Justice was known not to suffer people who changed their minds, so once the victim of a crime entered the cell to speak with his assaulter, she couldn't get out until the case between them had been settled.

The problem was that Zevran and Siona had been rather taken with each other, and they were eagerly discussing fashion instead of trying to figure out a suitable tribute. Siona found the idea of punishing such a nice man disagreeable, and it took a long time until Fen'Harel convinced her that she had to choose something relatable to get out.  
"I don't know what to choose. If I tell him to practice more, he might drop more people down to Thedas.", Siona explained. "And if he doesn't practice and learn, he will still drop people, and since they don't have papae's secret runes, they will die when they hit the ground."  
"What secret runes?", Fen'Harel asked.  
"The red ones. You are not supposed to speak about them. They're secret.", Siona said disapprovingly. "And then there is another problem. Like I already told you, grandfather made me promise that I won't make any legally binding promises until I'm adult. I can't judge Zevran without breaking my word, and it's very bad to do so."  
Fen'Harel would have loved to point out the circular argument which made Abelas' demand technically impossible, but it was not a discussion he wanted to have now.  
"Do you agree if I judge Zevran for you?", he asked instead.  
"Only if you don't make him ugly.", Siona replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Zevran told me that he is a warrior of beauty and love in wicked, wicked world."  
That was the moment when Fen'Harel knew he had to get his daughter out from the cell. Now.  
"Zevran. In behalf of the victim of your crime, I hereby judge you to spend three hours each day practicing your magic in this very cell, so you will not accidentally hurt anyone. I will personally evaluate your progress and decide when you no longer pose a threat to general population of Arlathan."  
The magic cage flickered and the blue glow died down. Siona ran out and to Fen'Harel's surprise, she jumped on him, hugging his legs.  
"Oh, Dread Wolf. You were a valiant judge, just like heroes in my book! I'm so proud of you!"

A faint blush rose to Fen'Harel's face, but he ignored it. Feeling a softer kind of pride in his heart, he took Siona's hand, and they went home.  
  


 

 


	29. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana wakes up and goes to Elgar'nan's temple.
> 
> A chapter where  
> ...Ellana's thinking is very Dalish. In a bad way.  
> ...Fen'Harel can't quite decide between two bad options, and then he simply loses it.  
> ...Elgar'nan gets well-earned backlash from his earlier actions.  
> ...Mythal and Siona find a new understanding over the sheer stupidity of others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my habit to do research for fanfics. Mostly for things like armors, fighting and lore, but this time I needed ideas of new books for Elgar'nan. Now I think I need brain bleach. The dinosaur thing is actual, real book. Oh, the imaginations of shemlen...

When Ellana opened her eyes, she saw Fen'Harel standing by the window. He was watching her, but his expression was cold and distant. He looked different, now. Instead of same old sweater and green trousers he was wearing deep blue robes, and he had hair. Lots of it. It fell down his back like molten copper, and someone had braided the fringes to keep them off his face. Ellana didn't know what to say. She was speechless, unable to do anything but stare at him.  
"I see you have woken at last.", he noted coolly. "Mythal said it would happen soon."  
"Solas.", she said, sitting up on the bed. "What is wrong?"  
Her mind was still disoriented, like she had dreamed for a long time. She remembered the sound of raindrops hitting the window glass, and Abelas' steady voice guiding her deeper into healing sleep.  
"What is wrong?", he repeated, the words clipped and sharp. "Maybe the fact that woman I loved, whom I trusted, decided that she knew me better than I know myself. I don't care what your reasons were. How nobly you thought that you would not burden me with our daughter. All I care about is the fact that you robbed me of all choices I might have made. You hid the truth, and stole my only child from me."  
"Siona.", Ellana whispered.  
"Choosing her name is only one of the things you robbed from me and gave to Elgar'nan.", Fen'Harel replied. "But yes, her."  
He pushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear and continued:  
"I have been watching Siona for Elgar'nan for last five days, and I returned her to _her father_ this morning. We are expected to meet in his temple, because Mythal wishes to plan the assault on Golden City. I made a treaty with her. I shall release Dirthamen and Falon'Din in exchange for her returning your lost memories of Elgar'nan's treachery. You deserved to know the fullness of your mistakes."  
"Solas, I.."  
"No, Ellana. During these five days I have spent with Siona, I've been thinking of what it would have been like to actually raise my own child. As a result, I find myself too angry at you to talk about this or listen to your explanations. ", Fen'Harel snapped and walked to door. "When you are ready, come downstairs. It is time to leave."

\--

She had trusted him. She had thought him as her friend. He had been there when her child was born, and how ridiculously grateful she had been because she didn't have to do it alone. Ellana could remember leaning against Elgar'nan as the pain of birth had torn through her.  
_"I will make you forget. You will only remember the good parts.",_ he had said. Not a words of reassurance, as she had thought, but a threat delivered. A sinister promise kept. And that was a man she had given her child to care for.

Rage throbbed in her veins. Ellana's knuckles holding her staff were white. Fen'Harel was speaking with one of Elgar'nan's temple guards, who nodded and gestured them to follow.  
"She informed me that June and Mythal have not arrived yet, but Elgar'nan is in the garden.", Fen'Harel said. "Keep your barriers around you. Siona has already gone through one growth spurt because of magic."  
"What do you mean?", Ellana asked.  
"The elvhen children do not grow as you did. She was a little more than a baby for a decade. When I came for you, she was still a toddler making sand cakes with Elgar'nan. Your uncontrolled magic aged her overnight. She is old enough to read and wield magic, now.", Fen'Harel replied.  
"How old?", Ellana whispered. This didn't make any sense.  
Fen'Harel's cold eyes softened at her obvious distress.  
"Think of six, seven shemlen years.", he said.  
"What is she like?"  
"It is best if you see yourself.", Fen'Harel answered.

\-- 

Elgar'nan was lounging in a hammock tied between two trees and reading a book. He seemed to be much amused by the title. There was a pile of novels on the ground.  
"Senris!", he called as he flipped to last page.  
"Yes, my lord?"  
"Find the author of this "Creator series". Tell her that I'll pay her a visit in a few days. I like her style, but she needs to do some serious background work to get her details right. The stuff she wrote about Falon'Din and Dirthamen was very odd. Homoerotic. It's her luck that they are still stuck behind the mirror."  
"Are you referring to anonymous author of "Wolf at the Door", "Closer than Brothers" and "He Only Comes at Midnight"?", Senris asked in deadpan voice.  
"Naturally, Senris. Have you seen her list of soon-to-be published titles?"  
"To my eternal regret, I have, my lord."  
"If someone is going to write a smut about me, it should be excellent.", Elgar'nan announced. "Tell her that I'm going to gift her a taste of "Savage Thunder". I like the title. It's corny in the right way."  
Senris nodded stoically.  
"It will be done, my lord."  
"But this one. "Taken by T-Rex". Even I haven't seen anything like this before.. Listen, Senris. _When the angry T-Rex corners the huntress in a box canyon, it seems more interested in her wet womanhood than in her flesh_.", Elgar'nan read aloud. "I think T-Rex is some kind of big lizard, like those Ghilan'nain made before they started eating People and she had to kill them all. I can't wait to tell Ghilly that the shemlen have invented a whole genre of dinosaur porn. The things humans come up with... It's unbelievable."  
"I would appreciate it if you didn't read these to me, my lord.", Senris said in long-suffering voice.  
"Nonsense, Senris. I'm trying to broaden your world view to suit this new Age."  
"I believe the little lady is soon going to finish her sixth round around the garden, my lord.", Senris coughed discreetly. "And you have guests waiting for you."  
"All right, Senris. I get it.", Elgar'nan sighed and put the book away, swinging his legs down. He approached Ellana and Fen'Harel with a smile on his face.  
"Ellana. How good to see you.", Elgar'nan said, holding out his arms for her.  
Instead of a hug, Ellana swung her staff and hit him on the face.

 

Siona was tired and out of breath when she stopped and took an arrow from the quiver on her back. The chain shirt was heavy, and her arms were shaking as she notched the arrow on her bow.  
"Keep it steady, da'len.", Amanya said, kneeling down to help her to get the aim right.  
"How can you even walk, hahren?", Siona asked, trying to keep her aching arms straight. "Llowyn let me try to lift his breastplate, and I couldn't move it, even though I tried. And you have arm guards and leg guards and everything else. I can barely keep up with the shirt."  
Amanya's chuckle was warm and fond.  
"Oh, da'len, all it takes is time and practice to get stronger. Continue like this, and soon you will find out the chain shirt no longer slows you down. We'll add more pieces of armor after that. Be patient. This is your first day, and you can stop after seven rounds. Now, focus on the target and release the arrow."  
The arrow didn't hit the center, but at least it landed inside of a circle Amanya had painted for her.  
"You did better on the first round.", the sentinel said critically. "Do you know why, Siona?"  
"My arms ache. The armor makes them tire too quickly.", Siona said.  
"Yes, da'len. When one gets tired, accuracy suffers. This is why you must build up your endurance, too. Good aim is not enough.", Amanya said. "But now, continue. I will see you for one more time before bath and bed. Our lord has a meeting with other Creators, and he promised to tuck you in before that."  
Siona nodded, taking her bow, and started to run again.

She ran past the beds of orchids, and the swing on her favorite tree. Papae's hammock was not far away. Panting, she willed her legs to move although she was getting really tired. She wanted papae to see that she could run six rounds in her new armor. He had promised to read her favorite story if she completed Amanya's lesson well. It had princess who stole her father's armor and became a hero who saved the realm. Papae was really good at making the monsters' voices sound scary, and Siona loved feeling the small thrill of fear while she snuggled against papae, knowing she was safe and no monsters would ever get her.

Papae's guest had already arrived, because he had left the hammock and his books, and was walking to meet them. Siona recognized Fen'Harel, who was wearing his new nice robes, but there was a woman she did not know. Papae did know her, because he was holding out his arms for a hug. The stranger looked really angry, and Siona's eyes widened when she saw the woman swinging her staff. The focus on the top of it hit papae on the face, and there was a sickening smashing sound when it met papae's barrier. It was just like the Dalish in the wood, all over again. And papae had no weapons.  
Siona stopped where she stood, and took an arrow from her quiver. She drew her bow, tucking her chin in like Amanya had taught her, and looked at the pin, targeting on woman's leg. A fear running through her veins made the movements crisp and firm, and her arm didn't shake at all when she let the arrow fly.

 

An arrow whistled through the air, hitting the ground between Elgar'nan and the woman, right in front of stranger's toes.  
"Put your weapon down and step away from papae.", Siona demanded. "Or the next arrow will hit you on your face."  
She was bluffing, because she couldn't aim well enough to shoot her in the face, but Siona counted on the woman not knowing that. She took another arrow and drew again, aiming at the stranger. The string was taut and keeping it drawn hurt her fingers, but she didn't care.  
Fen'Harel stepped quickly between her and the stranger, picking up the arrow from the ground.  
"By the Void, Elgar'nan, who in his right mind gives real arrows to a child?", he asked. "Siona, put the bow down."  
"No, Dread Wolf.", Siona said resolutely, advancing slowly.  
"I won't let you hurt papae. Put the staff down, now. ", she commanded the stranger. "You have until the count of five. Five. Four..."  
"You'd better do it.", Fen'Harel advised.  
The woman had the oddest look on her face as she dropped her staff on the ground.  
"Put the bow down.", Senris suddenly said behind Siona, his gauntlet resting on her shoulder. "We will take it from here."  
"She tried to hurt papae.", Siona resisted.  
"It will not happen again.", Senris told her. "We will make sure of it."  
Siona swallowed, slowly letting the tension go from the string. Her arms ached and the scary thoughts from the forest and the evil Dalish filled her mind. Senris took the bow from her.  
"Siona.", the strange woman said. "Don't you remember me at all?"  
She shook her head.  
"I am your mamae.", she said, kneeling down and opening her arms. "I've come here to take you home with me."  
Siona's face grew pale.  
"No.", she said weakly, taking a few steps back. " _No._ "

 

"Yes.", Ellana said firmly. "I understand this is hard for you, but you must be strong. Countless Dalish mage children have gone through the same thing. You might feel sad for some time, but it will pass. I always meant to come back to you. I'm sorry it took so long."  
"But I don't remember you. I know nothing about you.", Siona said, her lips trembling.  
"You will learn.", Ellana told her, advancing. "The same thing happened to me when I was young. It happened to almost every Keeper I know, and we all survived it. A Dalish First is servant of her People, and you are of Clan Lavellan. You will endure, Siona, and grow stronger for it."  
Fen'Harel swallowed the bile rising to his throat as he listened Ellana's words. Elgar'nan's face was pale, and his expression unreadable.  
"I don't want to.", Siona said in small voice.  
"It does not matter.", Ellana told her. "It is your duty to your People. You are First of Clan Lavellan, whether you want or not."  
"I will not come with you.", Siona said, summoning what courage she had. "I don't want to endure, or be stronger. I'm not Dalish, and I won't be your First. I want to be _happy_. I'm staying here with papae and Senris and all the sentinels and lady Lindrinae."  
"You are a child. I too cried for my father when he left me with the Dalish, but it was for the best. It was necessary. Whether you stay or leave is not your decision to make. It is mine, and I say you will come with me. Now.", Ellana said.  
She stepped forwards, and caught Siona's arm. The child struggled in her grip, but Ellana was adult, stronger and determined. She started to walk towards the gate, pulling Siona behind her. Fen'Harel closed his eyes briefly, wondering how many children of the Dalish had been taken this way during the long centuries of his slumber. He was ashamed of himself. A part of him reveled in thought of having his child back from Elgar'nan, but another part ached when he heard Siona's weeping and her hysterical attempts to break free.

Ellana had almost reached the gate, when Siona made last heartbreaking plea, looking at Elgar'nan.  
"I don't want to go!", she begged, looking straight at him. " You said I could choose! You promised! Save me, papae, _please_."  
Elgar'nan's facade broke, and Fen'Harel felt the magic surging in the air. Suddenly Siona's skin was burning with red runes. They were everywhere. Symbols burned on her forehead, on her face, on her hands. Elgar'nan's magic flowed through them, slamming Ellana violently against the golden gate. It took a moment before Fen'Harel could admit what he was seeing. He had seen them briefly before, but not for long enough to know what they were for. Now he knew. He had seen runes like those many times, lastly when Morrigan had drunk from the well.  
"You have bound her!", inhuman scream tore out from Fen'Harel's throat. "You bound my child to your service in life and death! She is your creature now!"  
Unable to accept it, unable to take it, Fen'Harel shifted his form. He saw Senris throwing Siona over his shoulder and running to safety, but the huge wolf with six red eyes did not care. It knew the pup was lost. All that remained was revenge. The wolf snarled and attacked the betrayer with it's mate. They would see him dead for this.

\--

Mythal was not happy as she stepped over a fallen trunk of a tree. She had dunked Ellana into pond to smother the flames. Ones who were recently ascended were generally easy to stop, and Mythal knew Ellana's tactics well enough from the time the woman had been her vessel. Fen'Harel and Elgar'nan had been trickier. Mythal's calf ached, and it irked her. Dread Wolf had bitten her to bone when she waded into fight between him and Elgar'nan. She had smashed their heads together. It usually had a calming effect. When they would wake up, they would be much calmer. For a week or so. The calming effect was based on paralyzing migraine due to head injury. Mythal had made it known that the first elf to heal either one would get a head injury of their own.  
"Your parents are idiots, girl. All three of them.", she remarked to Siona. "This is intolerable."  
The girl nodded. Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked at the ruins of her home. The garden was gone, and half of the temple was leveled, too. Elgar'nan's rooms were simply gone, as well as Siona's. Only thing left was a dusty, broken rag doll the child was holding. It missed one arm. Mythal suspected the sentinels had dug it from the ruins for her.  
"Come.", she told the girl. "We go back to my temple and think this through before any of those lunatics wake up. It's the only way to get things done here. They should be concentrating on Forgotten Ones, not fighting each other. Idiots."  
Siona's mouth was thin, angry line, and she climbed over the ruined garden wall to follow Mythal.


	30. Mythal's court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courtroom drama in Arlathan. Abelas' contract makes appearance.
> 
> "When Siona was born, she looked ridiculously like Fen'Harel. That nose on a baby was simply cruel."  
>  \- Elgar'nan states his reasons for binding runes.
> 
> "As a Creator, you cannot claim ignorance of our own laws and duties bestowed by them. That includes reading any legal documents you might sign.", Mythal said mercilessly.  
> "By Void's sake, I am the god of Rebellion.", Fen'Harel snapped.
> 
> "Father. You know how much I hate it when you are right?"  
> "I do.", Abelas said lightly, flipping through his bundle of papers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to give you the regularly scheduled every-ten-chapters plot point, but Lawyer!Abelas filed an objection, dropping his beloved contract over my keyboard. As a former law student, I got sucked into clauses and paragraphs, and therefore you have to wait for Golden City until chapter 31. I'm terribly sorry if you were mentally prepared for angst and only got family fluff. But we should get to Golden City and to high point of current plot arc hopefully within next two days.
> 
> The last story arc will begin from chapter 31. I think that finishing all my plots will take more than 10 chapters, but I try to keep this whole thing under 50 chapters. There won't be a sequel, but I'm playing with a new experiment for epilogue. I'll write two or three easter egg short stories. They will be independent from the main story, but take place in the same world. So if you have something you would like to see, let me know.

"My lady.", Enethriel kneeled on one knee. "I have returned from Tirashan forest. We managed to complete the task you gave us."  
"So you say that you actually breached Geldauran's temple and also got Elgar'nan's blood?", Andruil asked, her voice not convinced.   
"I would rather die than fail you.", Enethriel said seriously, taking a small glass vial from the pocket of his coat. "But the cost for Clan Alerion was great. Seven of my hunters fell in your service, Huntress, in fight against Elgar'nan. And I lost my First when we attempted to enter Geldauran's temple to search for the inscription you requested."  
Andruil walked to him, and Enethriel offered the vial on the palm of his hand, looking respectfully at the ground.   
"I knew you were worth saving.", Andruil said, lifting his chin up with her hand. "How old were you, Enethriel, when you prayed for me to save you and your clan?"  
"Eleven, my lady.", he answered. "I had just became Keeper of Alerion after my father's death."  
"Ten years.", Andruil said lightly. "And how nicely you have grown up."  
She took the vial, sending a tentative tendril of magic towards it.   
"Oh. It actually is Elgar'nan's blood. Who would have thought?", she laughed, and Enethriel felt his heart trembling at the sound. He had never heard anything so beautiful or frightening.  
"I sent my hunters to follow the path of the black dragon once you sent a word in my dreams.", Enethriel explained eagerly. "It ravaged Serault to ground, and a second group of my scouts had just seen a small elven girl humans left into woods. We were originally going to take her with us, but we decided to wait and see what would happen. Elgar'nan came for her. When we attacked, he turned into a dragon and took the child away."  
"A child. Curious.", Andruil mused. "I didn't know Eldest of the Sun had a daughter. I would have thought Mythal would never agree to such a thing. But you said that you found the inscription?"  
"Yes.", Enethriel nodded, taking a scroll from his pocket and offering it to Andruil. "It was in exact location you described, Huntress. I copied it, although I must admit that I didn't understand much."  
Andruil opened the scroll, reading it.  
"May I ask what it is?", he requested.  
"Yes. For your reward, you may. It is a recipe for Geldauran's earliest attempts to create Taint, with notes to tailor the poison to an individual.", Andruil replied. She closed the scroll, and considered the kneeling man in front of him.  
"I must confer with Avernus. You may attend me later tonight in my rooms."  
"My lady, I--", Enethriel began.  
"Shh.", Andruil said, placing her finger on his lips. "Don't say a word, or I will change my mind. I've had enough of men who speak too much. Silence means less lies."  
She left, leaving kneeling Keeper on the floor. As the door closed behind her, Enethriel drew a deep breath, trying to keep his hopes up. He knew the true reason why Andruil did not want to hear his words. But one day, she would. He had to believe in that.

 

\--

"This is one of the most complex cases brought to my court for some time.", Mythal said dryly as she watched the petitioners from her high throne. "This game of yours has been going on for too long. In one manner or another, it _will_ end today. I offer you two options. You will be given a chance to voice your opinion in controlled, reasonable manner. I will consider the evidence presented to me and make my decision on girl's fate. The second option is more straightforward. I have the child in my custody. If an accord cannot be reached in reasonable amount of time, she will be immediately executed for causing unrest among the Pantheon."  
"You can't-", Ellana began.  
"I can and I will.", Mythal's words were harsh and final. "Don't tell me you never would have made similar decision, had you been called to make one as First of your Clan, or the Inquisitor. One child's life, no matter how dear, is cheap compared to all those who will be lost if our attention continues to be taken by trivial things instead of the Blight which threatens us all."  
Ellana was going to say something, but Fen'Harel caught her arm, shaking his head fiercely.  
"Good. Considering the number of problems to be solved in this session, I suggest you keep your statements short and pithy.", Mythal said, nodding to one of her sentinels who turned a hourglass over. A trickle of sand started to run from one part to another.

"Session 248, 8452 FA.", Melana announced in neutral voice. "Case: Ellana of Clan Lavellan versus Fen'Harel versus Elgar'nan. The question of paternity and custody of Siona, daughter of Ellana."  
"I have an objection.", Elgar'nan announced at once.  
"Which is?", Mythal asked, looking down at him.  
"I dispute the right of Ellana Lavellan representing herself in the court. Although she belongs to Dreamer class, her age makes her legally incompetent."  
"Partially accepted.", Mythal decreed firmly. "Ellana of Clan Lavellan. You may speak concerning the matter of paternity, but you are excluded from judgement concerning custody for being underage yourself."  
"My lady.", Abelas stepped forwards, carrying a stack of old papers. "May I draw your attention to these documents?"  
Mythal nodded, and Abelas walked to her throne, offering select pages to her perusal. Ellana stared at the hourglass and without thinking, she reached for Fen'Harel's hand with her cold fingers. Maybe one sixth of the sand had already fallen, and they hadn't even began yet. Fen'Harel was watching the hourglass too, his expression neutrally reserved, but he held her hand so tightly it almost hurt.  
"I didn't take you for someone to pay mind to legal niceties, Fen'Harel, but it seems that you have had some foresight. Have you signed prenuptial agreement with Ellana of Clan Lavellan on 8th of Matrinalis, 8442 FA?"  
"Yes.", Fen'Harel said. He never would have thought to be grateful for Abelas and his damned contract. If he only could recall what it actually said.  
"And I take that your signature is genuine as well?", Mythal asked from Ellana, who nodded.  
"This contract, page 28, clause 8a, states that any children born to Ellana of Clan Lavellan after the date of the contract, may claim Fen'Harel as their father, with all traditional privileges listed in Elvhenan law. He has sworn to provide all children she may have with inheritance, support and protection, including the costs of education until the children come of age.", Melana read out loud.  
"The question of child's paternity is therefore clear. Since Ellana of Clan Lavellan is underage and cannot be legally responsible for a minor, any treaties or agreements she has made with Elgar'nan are void. Fen'Harel is Siona's only parent in eyes of law.", Mythal announced with air of finality.

"Abelas. I think I love you.", Fen'Harel whispered as the sentinel walked past them carrying his precious treaty. There was a relieved smile on Ellana's face, and Fen'Harel found himself answering her smile. Even though he had not forgiven her about keeping secrets, he couldn't help but share her joy.  
"Just wait until you start getting bills from tailor.", Abelas remarked and glided back to his place in the corner. He was looking rather smug. The hourglass had four fifths still remaining.

"The custody is another matter entirely.", Mythal continued. "Fen'Harel. You admitted signing the contract presented in this court. It expressly states that any children born to Ellana of Lavellan are your children, but as far as I know, you have not fulfilled your obligations as a father."  
Fen'Harel did not like the direction this trial was going.  
"My lord Elgar'nan. Since you are the most familiar with the child in question, has she recieved any of the following items from Fen'Harel during the last decade?", Melana began politely, holding a quill ready. "Has Fen'Harel provided her with food?"  
"No.", Elgar'nan said, sounding oh so sincere. "After Ellana was lost in shemlen attack, I hired a nurse for the baby, paying the cost from my own funds. After Siona was weaned, she has been eating at my table."  
Melana made a mark on the parchment.  
"Clothing?"  
Elgar'nan shook his head.  
"Shelter? Education? Health needs? And since the child is a member of ruling class by birth, magical tutoring? Personal servants?", Melana went on.  
"No.", Elgar'nan replied. "Siona has not gotten a single thing from Fen'Harel in her whole life. She has spent five days with Fen'Harel two weeks ago, when I needed child care, but even then I provided her with sufficient funds."  
"Is this true, Fen'Harel?", Mythal asked.  
"Had I known, I would of course-"  
"Yes or no, Fen'Harel.", Mythal said mercilessly. "It is generally expected that all citizens of Elvhenan treat my laws with respect they deserve. That respect includes reading and paying attention to any legal documents they might sign. As a Creator, you cannot claim ignorance of our own laws and duties bestowed by them."  
"By Void's sake, I am the god of _Rebellion_.", Fen'Harel snapped.  
Mythal looked at him and tapped the top of the hourglass with her fingertips. A lump of sand dropped down, suddenly cutting the remaining time in half.  
"Yes or no?", Mythal asked, holding her hand ready for another tap.  
"No.", Fen'Harel admitted reluctantly.

Mythal crossed her fingers, watching her applicants.   
"It seems to me that we have another legal problem in our hands. Siona's right to demand support Fen'Harel has failed to provide for her. Not a good example to People. But let us determine her actual status. Her mother was a minor, and generally believed to be dead. Her father, Fen'Harel, did not acknowledge their relationship in any way. In these circumstances, it seems to me that Siona was a foundling, who was taken in by God of Vengeance."  
"Not taken in. Adopted.", Elgar'nan said, leaning against the stone column.   
"In the citizenship registry of Arlathan, Siona is mentioned as Siona, daughter of Elgar'nan, Eldest of the Sun. Blond hair, blue eyes, age fifteen days. The recording date is 27th of Umbralis, 8442 FA.", Melana said.   
Fen'Harel turned to look at Elgar'nan with disgust.  
"I will never believe you actually remembered to register her birth, by Daern'thal's balls! You are hopeless at anything requiring organized thinking!"  
"The person filing the claim was Senris, the leader of Elgar'nan's sentinels, who provided his mark as the proof of his authorization.", Melana continued.  
"There you have it.", Elgar'nan smirked.  
"He probably stole the mark from the mess of papers you call your desk.", Fen'Harel snapped.  
"Do you deny Senris' authority to act on your behalf, Elgar'nan?", Mythal asked.  
"Of course not.", Elgar'nan said. "I cannot be expected to personally take care of every little detail of my household. Senris has my full trust in these matters."

   
Ellana glanced at the hourglass. The discussion had been going on in circles for some time, now. She could claim no familiarity with Elvhenan laws, but the frown on Abelas' face did not promise quick or easy solution. The court had established so far that Elgar'nan's claim to adopt a foundling was equally valid to Fen'Harel's, but solving the issue did not seem to progress anywhere.  
"Father.", Ellana asked quietly. "Is she really going to execute her if this isn't finished in time?"  
Abelas' mouth was thin line.   
"I have seen such thing happen before.", he admitted. "Mythal never suffered fools gladly, and she doesn't like Siona. Every moment Elgar'nan spends entangled in this argument is yet another moment she must shoulder the responsibility of Elvhenan alone, and she is losing patience to wait for the return of her sons. I don't think this would necessarily go to that, but it is possible."  
Ellana bit her lip.  
"What would she want?", she asked quietly. "If she could choose."  
"You know the answer. You just don't like it.", Abelas replied.   
"I thought I could keep just this one baby.", Ellana said sadly. "I missed her so much when I was in prison, and I thought she would welcome me with open arms. But she shot an arrow at me instead."  
Abelas snickered.  
"What?", Ellana looked at him, feeling hurt.  
"As I recall", Abelas said dryly, "you sent Dread Wolf to demand my head from Mythal after you got my message. I shudder to think what would have happened had I contacted you in person."  
"But that was _then_. Years ago.", Ellana said indignantly. "I didn't even know you at the time."  
"Precisely.", Abelas replied. "You can't jump to from unfamiliarity to warmth, da'len."  
Ellana sighed.  
"Father. You know how much I hate it when you are right?"  
"I do.", Abelas said lightly, flipping through his bundle of papers. He withdrew one sheet and offered it to Ellana.   
"I believe all parties might be open to a compromise along these lines."

 

"You can't expect me to give back a child you abandoned for ten years!", Elgar'nan snapped. "You might be the man who made her, but it has nothing to do with fatherhood."  
"You bound her! What kind of man puts binding runes on a baby?", Fen'Harel shouted at him. Mythal's hand hovered over the hourglass, her eyes dark and annoyed.  
Fen'Harel was just going to tell Elgar'nan what else he thought about him, when Ellana tapped on his shoulder and pushed a paper into his hand.  
"If you let our daughter die, I swear I will skewer you and feed to Forgotten Ones.", her breath was warm against his ear. "Suggest this to Elgar'nan."  
Fen'Harel glanced at the paper, then at the hourglass. He didn't like what he was reading, but their time was almost running out, and Mythal's expression hinted that she might make good of her threat. He sighed and said in loud voice, interrupting Elgar'nan's rant:  
"I suggest a compromise. Siona will continue living with you until she comes of age, but I retain my duties and rights as her father, as listed in Elvhenan law."  
"Are you actually serious?", Elgar'nan stared at him suspiciously. "I keep my daughter, and you start paying the bills?"  
"And take over the responsibility of her formal education. Personally.", Fen'Harel said. It wasn't what he had originally wanted, but it was an opening. Training a mage took hours and hours. Many children spent more time with their masters than their parents, and knowing what he knew about Siona's ventures in the Fade, she sorely needed someone to guide her.  
"Also I would demand a chance to study the runes you have placed on her, and interfere if you use them in a way which is harmful for her well being. She does have right to my protection.", Fen'Harel continued, watching the hourglass.  
Elgar'nan's expression was interesting. He was smiling, not entirely benevolently.   
"I have nothing against you studying the runes. Removing them is another matter entirely. At this point, it would be ill-advised and extremely painful. I would not allow it."  
"What they do?", Ellana asked.  
"I made her into my image, blood and bone.", Elgar'nan said calmly. "When Siona was born, she looked ridiculously like Fen'Harel. That nose on a baby was simply cruel."

Mythal had been in enough trials to know when it was time to end it.

"Insults aside, do you agree to his terms, Elgar'nan?", she said, her hand hovering over the hourglass. To encourage him, she tapped slightly the top of the hourglass, causing almost all remaining sand to fall. She had perfected the gesture on point she could easily control the flow of time to suit her.  
"I think you have time for one last word, Elgar'nan.", Mythal remarked as she watched the last grain slide downwards.  
"Yes.", Eldest of the Sun said. The look on his face promised retribution. Elgar'nan hated to be pushed into decisions, but Mythal merely smiled. Hate sex was a valid expectation in this case, and now that the matter had been solved, she would finally have _her_ children back.  
"It is settled then. I expect you all tomorrow morning to begin our assault at Golden City.", Mythal announced.  
"And Siona?", Ellana asked sharply.  
"Attic in Abelas' house.", Mythal replied. "I didn't want her to corrupt people in my dungeons. Don't think I haven't heard about what happened to Zevran."

\--

Two small heads were bending over a doll house in Abelas' attic. One was blond, another purple with little horns.  
"This is the mamae. She has laid some eggs, and they are almost grown up now, ready to hatch! Soon there will be babies!"  
"This is her sister. She has always wanted to be more beautiful. And rich. And powerful."  
"Mamae is going to dig her eggs in the garden, so they will be all warm and cozy. There is a pink egg, and two blue eggs."  
"The pink egg is the most beautiful. The sister wants to have it. She wants it so much that one night, when she is in the Fade, a wonderful spirit of desire comes to her and offers her a very advantageous deal--"   
"Siona! Come down!", a shout from the below interrupted their play, but the girls ignored it.  
"--a very advantageous deal. She can have the egg for a very minor cost. The sister thinks she is a very clever mage, but the spirit of desire is much, much smarter, and it has a devious plan."  
"How can you claim that spirits of desire are all so clever, since you can't even read?"  
"That's just a stupid question. I don't need to read. I'm above reading. I can pick things from people's minds."  
"But if they are stupid people, you will learn just stupid things. A very clever mage has read a thousand books. She is surely smarter than a spirit of desire."  
"She is not. And besides, then the spirit of desire can pick all the clever things from her mind and become clever too!"  
"It doesn't work like that.", Siona said with arrogance. "The cleverest things are just gibberish unless one learns easier thing first. My tutor says so. If you want to really trick people, you should learn how to read."  
"You're lying."  
"Am not."  
"You are."  
"Am not."  
There was a sound of steps coming up the ladder.  
"Siona?", Fen'Harel called as he pushed open the trapdoor.

Fen'Harel had seen many unexpected sights in his long life. During last months, he had learned that children thrived on chaos and surprises, and therefore he was not particularly surprised to see Siona sitting next to small desire demon. They were playing with a doll house.  
"Dread Wolf.", his daughter addressed him. She liked calling him that for some unfathomable reason. "How did your meeting with Mythal go? Grandfather said it would be very boring, and not for children. We were having an argument over whether desire spirits should learn to read so they could trick people better. What do you think?"  
"I could give you what you want if you take my side.", the little demon offered. "You don't have to die alone. You could have a house full of children. A family. A big lovely garden filled with pink and blue eggs."  
Fen'Harel snorted. Siona had evidently corrupted the spirit with Shianni's theory of procreation. He dearly wished he could see the first time when some fool mage tried to ask for sex from this particular spirit and ended up having a painted egg for all his trouble.  
"I told you that people who read many books are too smart for your deals, Lisel.", Siona said smugly. "I bet you can't pick up any clever thoughts from his mind if you tried."  
"Da'len. Are you offering me for a demon fodder?", Fen'Harel asked, sitting on the floor with them.  
"I'm proving a theory. She says that she doesn't have learn how to read to be smart, because she can just pick up smart thoughts from people's minds. I'm saying it doesn't work."  
"Generally, a good theory is only worth something if it actually works in practice. I've...", Fen'Harel began. Oh, how he had missed interesting arguments on the nature of spirits! It was refreshing to teach someone without spending hours at arguing the shemlen idea of dividing spirits according to their supposed morality instead of aggression. He had a feeling he would enjoy guiding the new generation of elvhen born in Arlathan.

And it would certainly be new experience to teach a desire demon to read.

\--

There was a thin line of smoke coming out from Abelas' kitchen window.

Siona was standing on a stool by hearth, her eyes focused on a small cauldron. Elgar'nan stood next to her, stirring the cauldron with one of Abelas' big spoons.  
"When it starts to simmer, it's time to add ghoul's beard clippings.", Elgar'nan explained in low voice. "Make sure you always use gloves. Ingested, it can kill a man, or ruin his mind. Used like this, ghoul's beard is excellent for adding thickness. Which is a must."  
Siona took the clippings and dropped them in the cauldron, her expression fascinated.  
"What then, papae?", she asked.  
"Then one leaf of dragonthorn. For first batch, it should be small one because it stabilizes the effects of more volatile herbs. Medium-sized ones work best for maintaining the effects. Then, add seven drops of oil. Never more than that, otherwise it will look just ridiculous.", Elgar'nan took a bottle from the shelf, pouring the set amount into cauldron.  
"It would be greasy, not shiny.", Siona said, wrinkling her nose.  
"Precisely, princess. Now add the crushed embrium berries."  
Siona did so, and they both watched the cauldron with great interest.  
"I think it's ready.", Siona whispered.  
"A simple ice spell, to cool it down. You don't want to get heat damage on your hair.", Elgar'nan said. "Then we'll comb it in."

Some time later they were laying on the grass and enjoying the evening sunshine. Every strand of silvery-blond hair on both their heads was diligently covered with greenish paste.  
"This is the best part.", Elgar'nan said, yawning. "Take a nap and let it take effect."  
"Having a pretty hair is a lot of work.", Siona admitted. Gathering the ingredients had taken most of the day after the trial, because their own garden was ruined. Finding rare herbs or right kind of scented oil wasn't easy.  
"Being beautiful is a skill to be honed like any other.", Elgar'nan told her. "It takes commitment to be exquisite. People who skip little details like using only silk or satin pillowcases, soon find themselves wearing hoods because it's easy. Then it's only one step to wearing rough fabrics, never paying mind to friction it causes, simply because coarse weaves don't need spells to enhance durability."  
Siona shuddered.  
"And then their hair will never be silky again.", she said. "What kind of hair Forgotten Ones have, papae?"  
"Frizzly.", Elgar'nan said solemnly. "They are all frizzly. Some of them are even bald."  
Her small fingers searched for his.  
"I'm worried for tomorrow, papae. What if the Forgotten Ones are laying in wait for you when you let Dirthamen and Falon'Din out?"  
Elgar'nan was expecting them to do just that, but he was not going to tell it to Siona.  
"There is no need to worry, little one. I am not going alone. All five of us will go, with sentinels."  
"But what if the Forgotten Ones are cunning, and they will come here while you all are away?", she asked in small voice.  
"They can't get past the barriers powered by our orbs."  
"But if you don't have your orb, your mana could run out.", Siona pointed out.  
Elgar'nan hid his smile. She had been paying attention to Senris' lectures.  
"That is why I'm not going alone. The others will provide barriers while I burn the taint away from Dirthamen, and Mythal will guide his spirit back to his true path."  
"Are you certain you can trust them to do that, papae? Mamae and Fen'Harel were trying to kill you just over a week ago."  
"Princess, whatever differences we might have, the pantheon has always been united against a common enemy.", Elgar'nan said firmly. "Like I said, there is no need for you to be worried. We go there and come back before you know it."

 

"What's this horrible mash? Why our kitchen smells like Elgar'nan's hair?", Ellana asked, lifting up a dirty spoon covered in green unknown substance. "I thought they were going to make dinner instead of laying in sunshine."  
Fen'Harel opened the window and listened for a moment.  
"You should know better than expect Elgar'nan to cook. He is telling her how being beautiful is hard work.", Fen'Harel rolled his eyes. "I think the slime is some kind of hair mask."  
"Oh, Creators.", Ellana muttered and started washing the dirty cauldron. "I never envisioned my life would be like this. Did she inherit the hair obsession from you? She must have."  
Instinctively, Fen'Harel's hands rose to touch the long, slightly wavy strands of hair which reached halfway to his back.  
"I knew it.", Ellana grinned. "No man becomes so good at braiding or 'hairstyles of my youth' without devoting a considerable time to practice them."  
"Don't you start, too.", Fen'Harel sighed. "Is it truly so exceptional to change the way I look?"  
"Fishing for compliments?", she asked lightly. "I like your new look. You of all people deserve a new beginning."

 

 


	31. Death and ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creators travel to Black City to free their brethren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to cut this chapter into two, because there was so much angst. So you get actual events today and reactions tomorrow. Keep your tissue stash near.

When Mahariel woke up, she was not feeling well. Her dreams were always bad, but last night they had been worse. She had not dreamed of archdemon, but something else, a whispering presence in the back of her mind. With every year, nightmares only seemed to get creepier. Oh, the joys of being Warden.

Sometimes she wondered what she should do when her time came. The traditional option, going to Deep Roads, was hard since there was no way in or out from Arlathan unless one could fly. Mahariel's grasp of magic didn't extend to shapeshifting, and she was sure it never would. Although all elves had magic now, especially the older ones had difficulties adjusting to their new abilities. Everyone had to study magic and show they could cast a certain set of battle spells, but it was hard to pretend to be a mage if you had been a baker, halla herder or servant for last thirty, forty years. Mahariel counted herself lucky to be able to swing a fireball and cast a rock armor, and even then, she wasn't convinced she would actually use spells in battle. Her trusty bow had served her well so far, Andruil be praised.

But it was not her skills as a mage which would be required today. She had been summoned by Creators. Even though Mahariel had worked alongside Mythal ever since Brecilian Forest, she shared the Dalish idea of gods. Creators were like a thunderstorm. Lighting was beautiful to watch and a good storm frightened away most your enemies, but if you got in the way, you died. Personally, Mahariel found the idea of constant body-swaps and whatever the Creators did in their spare time, very uncomfortable. Mythal was the worst. First time they had met, she had been a human hag calling herself Flemeth, then she had came for Mahariel looking like Ellana Lavellan whom Mahariel remembered from another clan, and after Arlathan rose, Mythal had been dark and curvy. One never knew which one was the real Mythal, and it was unsettling.

Of course, there were always a few elves who became religious lunatics. Like Kallian Tabris. When Mahariel left the Dalish compound, she saw the other woman waiting for her at the gates.  
"Tabris!", she greeted Kallian. "Any progress reports? You aren't getting any younger, you know."  
"Don't you have darkspawn to kill? Anywhere?", Kallian groaned as they started walking.  
"So aggressive? So the tall, golden and handsome still hasn't figured out what he should do next? ", Mahariel asked in pitying manner. "Maybe he has gone soft with age, and plays cool to hide his embarrassment. I've heard it happens to old men. Or maybe his mind has started to wander, and he has no idea that you've been drooling after him for eleven years. Eleven years. Who would have thought."  
It was widely known fact among former Mythal's Blades that Kallian Tabris had a thing for Abelas. Thing meaning a unrequited crush. Some even suspected it was the reason why Tabris had joined Mythal's sentinels, but Mahariel didn't believe that. Mahariel had asked about Kallian's reasons once when they both had been deep in their cups, and she had gotten so lyrical explanation about Mythal's justice that she wouldn't have understood half of it even if she wasn't drunk. After that, Mahariel had decided that Kallian was a religious fanatic, and tall, golden and handsome was just a side benefit.  
There was a bet going on in Cyrion's tavern about how long it would take to either one of them to actually say something, but most people had been far too optimistic in their predictions and lost their money years ago. Zevran claimed that he had everything recorded so if they actually did something one day, he would be able to divide the spoils to victor.  
"Mahariel, has anyone ever told you that you are a Dalish twit?", Kallian asked.  
"Many people, lethallan, so many people.", Mahariel grinned. "But since you came to shine in your golden armor among us lowly people, tell me what they want this time."  
"The Creators have a task outside the city. They want you to hold the command while they're gone.", Kallian said.  
"Me?", Mahariel asked. "Why me? Why not one of you?"  
"They all are leaving with the Creators. Except me.", Kallian said. It was clear that being left behind was a sore spot for her. "Abelas says that it's too risky for me to go, since I haven't drank from Well of Sorrows and therefore I'm vulnerable to magical compulsions. I hope that shemlen bitch who slurped it all got diarrhea."  
"Morrigan was a bitch.", Mahariel agreed. "But if I'm supposed to command, what will you do?"  
"Second-in-command in theory. In reality, I'm a glorified baby sitter.", Kallian said sourly.  
Mahariel started to cackle.  
"So, your boyfriend is leaving you behind, and making you to watch over his granddaughter?"  
"He is not my boyfriend!"  
"You should be grateful. It would only be a horrible disappointment to see him naked. He is probably all wrinkly under that shiny armor."  
"That isn't true.", Kallian muttered under her breath.  
"How do you know? Shared baths between brothers and sisters in arms?", Mahariel asked with interest. She had invested ten gold pieces in this.  
"If you are interested in sentinel's life, maybe you should have a word with Mythal. There is always place for devoted disciplines. No, I will ask her if she has ever considered taking you into her service.", Kallian fluttered her lashes.  
"No, thank you.", Mahariel recoiled. She didn't want to have anything to do with gods.  
"Why? I thought you Dalish were the true elves, worshipping our Creators?", Kallian laughed.  
"You are baiting me.", Mahariel said grimly.  
"Maybe I am.", Kallian replied lightly. "Our Great Protector likes snarky."

 

Seeing the armored Creators and their sentinels was a splendid sight. But one look at the Dread Wolf, and Mahariel had to bite her tongue not to laugh. Kallian kicked her ankle with her armored feet, and it hurt. She couldn't understand how Tabris could keep straight face. Maybe sentinels had some kind of entrance exam testing applicant's skills in bluffing?  
Dread Wolf had grown hair. To be exact, he had dreads. Ginger dreads. Mahariel tried not look at him, but the damned god caught her looking, and he smirked. _Smirked_.

"Are you paying any attention, Mahariel?", June asked sharply. "You have two tries to get the password right for barrier mechanism. If you fail on second try, you will get scorched and there will be an alarm."  
"Why?", Mahariel frowned at unfairness of it. "Everyone knows that puzzles let you try three times!"  
"That's why I built this to give only two.", June grinned, and his expression was not pretty. "As a precaution. I hate cocky grave robbers who don't bother to think puzzles."  
Mahariel flinched. She was notorious of trying to bash her way through every puzzle she had ever encountered. They were frustrating and annoyed her to no end.  
"Kallian.", she called, "would you come and see this too? I'm not willing to die just because I can't remember whether it was blue gem or white one."  
"A shrewd choice.", June congratulated her. "Now, I will show the sequence one last time. Pay attention. I will not thank you if you drag me back all way from Golden City just to wipe your ashes off the keyboard."

 

"Behave for Kallian. You must do what she says. No wandering around by yourself.", Abelas reminded Siona sternly.  
"She promised we'll go to her papae's tavern, and I can sell drinks to people!", Siona explained enthusiastically. "They have a box I can stand on, so I'll see over the counter."  
Abelas looked at Kallian, and Kallian couldn't help but smile. Abelas had a very particular range of facial expressions. They ranged mostly from dry to stern, with deep disgust and annoyance reserved for Fen'Harel and god's antics with Abelas' daughter. But there was a new one since Ellana's return, a mildly amused smirk which brought out a dimple on his left cheek, and this was the one he had when he looked at Kallian.  
"Any laws about using unpaid child labor to sell alcoholic beverages?", she asked.  
"I have a book in my study.", Abelas said. "You are welcome to read it after we return."  
He reached for her face, tracing the lines of Mythal's vallaslin branching over the bridge of her nose and up to her forehead. Kallian's breath caught at her throat for unexpected intimacy of the gesture.  
"It would not do for any servant of Mythal to be ignorant about such things.", he said, his eyes intent on her face. "There are other matters I've long thought to discuss with you."  
"About laws?", she asked stupidly.  
"No.", Abelas said, his smirk deepening into a smile. "Of personal nature."  
There was a.. glimmer in his yellow eyes. It couldn't be, Kallian's foggy mind claimed.  
"I will show you when you come to visit me.", he said, the light touch of his armored fingers cold against her heated face. Fenedhis lasa, she was entirely too old to blush for something like this. She was thirty-nine, for Void's sake. A grown woman and a former slave who had no business to feel fluttery just because someone touched her face. She had thought that Tevinter had beaten that out of her long time ago, but clearly she had been mistaken. Kallian wasn't sure if she should be grateful or not.  
"Will you come? Or am I too forward?", Abelas asked, the smile fading from his face, and it would not _do_.  
"No, not at all.", she said quickly. "I am happy to come to see this book of yours and..other things."  
"Good.", he said and turned away, returning to Mythal's side.

Kallian just knew their brothers and sisters in Mythal's service would never let either of them to live this down. Elan was making kissy faces behind Abelas' back, for Void's sake, while Melana grinned widely and gave her thumbs up. For once, she was not that sorry for being left behind.

\--

The night was falling over Arlathan, and all was well. Creators and their sentinels had left hours ago. They had marched into Chamber of Ruling and done some kind of magical hodge-podge Mahariel didn't get. At least she understood now why there was a hole in the ceiling of the circular chamber. There had been a bright light shooting through the hole, and when Mahariel had peeked into chamber again, it was empty and smelled of lighting. Ancients were weird.  
"So. Do you want to take first shift or second shift?", Kallian asked as they stood on the walls.  
"Don't you have to watch over your charge?", Mahariel asked.  
"She's fine. Cyrion gave her an apron and she's perfectly happy cashing customers and counting small change. I swear half of the customers are there just because they want to brag about meeting Elgar'nan's kid in person. Besides, Zevran is there. The kid was enamored with him the moment he promised she could stay up as long as she wanted.", Kallian snorted. "You look like you could use some sleep."  
"You're right.", Mahariel admitted. "I don't feel very well. Had a bad night yesterday."  
"Maybe you are coming down with a flu or something.", Kallian shrugged. "So, you take the first watch, and I will come around midnight."

 

As the hours dragged on and the darkness crept closer the watchtower, Mahariel started having second thoughts about doing this at all. The whispers in the back of her mind had been there ever since her Joining, but there was something different in them tonight. The voices were louder, and they seemed to come closer, much like the time she had seen archdemon rising from the depths of Bownammar during the Fifth Blight. When she heard steps behind her, she drew her sword instinctively and for a moment, she saw a genlock in front of her. She couldn't understand how there could be a darkspawn in Arlathan, of all places, but she would deal with it like she had dealt with hundreds of them before--  
"Commander Mahariel?", a frightened voice screamed. "Commander!"  
Mahariel blinked. It was speaking elvish. Genlocks did not speak elvish. They didn't speak at all.  
"Commander! Drop your weapon, now!", the loud voice yelled from the door, and suddenly there were several guards. They were soldiers from the wall, and the lieutenant leading them stepped between her and the genlock, slowly pushing her blade away with her own weapon. And the genlock changed. It was not a genlock. It was an elf, a soldier-recruit, holding a mug of tea she had asked him to bring for her.  
"Is something wrong, Commander?", the lieutenant asked. "What did you do, recruit?"  
"I did nothing!", the youth almost wept. "I was asked to bring tea to commander and when I came into room, her eyes turned all cold and she suddenly attacked me. Just like that! She held a blade on my throat."  
"I'm sorry...", Mahariel said, not understanding what had just happened. "I'm not feeling well. Something is wrong with me. I swear I thought you were a genlock."  
There was a red angry line on boy's skin, and lieutenant turned to one of her men.  
"Go get sentinel Tabris. Now."  
The soldier nodded and vanished in the dark.  
Mahariel felt cold sweat rising on her temples, and when she wiped it off with the back of her hand, she saw a red stain.  
"Your vallaslin, commander. Andruil's bow. It's bleeding. ", the lieutenant said in shaky voice, taking a step back and lifting up her hand to cast a spell. A barrier shimmered around her.

The tainted voices whispering in the back of her mind told Mahariel that it was time to hunt.

\--

"Something is wrong.", Fen'Harel said as he kicked the last darkspawn corpse aside.  
"I know what you mean.", Elgar'nan answered, sheathing his swords. "This is too easy. A few alphas and two omega darkspawns, plus a horde of grunts. I would have expected something better from Forgotten Ones."  
"Might be an ambush.", Mythal said in clipped tones. Her face was neutral, but Ellana felt bad just thinking the inner turmoil the other woman was surely going through. Mythal's memories of her sons were imprinted in her mind, too, and she felt unwell just thinking of them. The Golden City around them was black and tainted, a twisted image of splendor long gone. She was happy for Fen'Harel's advice to wear boots, because black slime covered every surface, including the ground they walked on. It got stuck in the bottom of her boots, making moving stiff and slow.  
"Probably.", Elgar'nan said and they continued forwards towards the heart of Golden City.

\--

"Sentinel. Lieutenant Vijonia sent for you.", a breathless soldier pushed open the door to Cyrion's tavern.  
Not wanting to draw attention, Kallian glanced over her shoulder to check that everything seemed calm and stepped to street, where they would not be so easily overheard.  
"Report, soldier.", she said firmly.  
"There is something wrong with Commander Mahariel.", the soldier replied in low voice. "She almost cut a recruit's throat, claiming that she thought he was a darkspawn. She would have killed him, if the lieteunant hadn't stepped between them."  
Kallian was just going to answer, when a bright melody echoed in the darkness. It was the sound Kallian had last heard when Ellana and Fen'Harel had returned from Thedas. The shields...  
"The barriers are opening!", soldier said, staring upwards. High in the sky, a dragon circled over Arlathan, waiting for an entry. It was accompanied by a squadron of _griffons_ , of all possible things. Kallian stared at the dragon, and terror gripped her heart like cold hand.  
"Which one of the Creators it is?", the soldier asked curiously.  
"It is no Creator.", Kallian said. Even though she was youngest of sentinels, Melana had drilled everything about Mythal's enemies into her mind. "Red dragon with golden wings is Andruil's favored form. Sound the alarm."  
Soldier's eyes widened and she pulled a horn from her belt. The deep sound echoed through the streets, and Kallian saw the houses along the street lighting up, one by one as the sleeping people woke up.  
"Kallian!", her father pushed open the tavern door. Zevran was there, and a room full of frightened elves behind them.  
"We are under attack. Father, I need you to take the child and hide with her."  
Cyrion nodded. His old, grizzled face was pale.  
"Mythal may protect you, daughter.", he murmured.  
"Zevran.", Kallian said, crushing the regret in her heart. She did not want to give this order, but if she did not, countless elves would die.  
"What do you need, my bright flower?", the assassin stepped forwards. He looked up to the sky, where the barriers had already parted enough to allow first griffons to slip inside. There were archers mounted on their backs, and Kallian saw how first burning arrow hit the vhenadal tree in the crossroads nearby.  
"I don't like the looks on that dragon. Reminds me quite a bit about archdemon.", Zevran remarked.  
"It's Andruil."  
"The mad one?", Zevran shook his head. "I should have known. I don't like to be the pessimist, but how you are planning to stop her?"  
"I can't.", Kallian said, her eyes too bright. "But I will keep her occupied as long as I can."  
"An admirable sacrifice, Kallian, but not worth anything if we can't get Creators come home.", Zevran said solemnly. He glanced up. The dragon would soon be able to fit it's upper body through the barriers.  
"You know the eastern watchtower. There is a console which is built like a puzzle, filled with gems of different colors. It is used to open the barrier. Mahariel is there, and apparently she has gone mad. I need you to get past her and then.", she swallowed but forced herself to continue "you must press whatever symbols you can. On second wrong try, the console will kill you and alert June something is wrong. We have no other way to contact them."  
"Leave it to me.", Zevran said, but Kallian was already running towards the highest spot in whole Arlathan to bait the dragon. The Tower of Sun.

\--

"This is the place.", June said as they reached Mythal's broken temple. There was a huge hole in the middle of the black-stained mosaic floor.  
"Guards.", Mythal commanded, and Abelas nodded to sentinels who took positions in the ruined room. She started a slow descent downwards, using magic in the places where any trace of stairs was already long gone. Her face was tense, and in her hurry she would have stumbled over a broken pillar, had Elgar'nan not caught her.  
"Peace, ma lath.", he whispered, and his voice was soft and kind unlike Ellana had ever heard. Mythal looked at him, smiling a small smile. She took his hand and together they continued forwards, one pulling the other.

 --

The tower on eastern wall was eerily silent except for the sobs. Zevran's footsteps were quiet as he stepped over the dead soldiers. Mahariel was kneeling in the middle of the room, her sword flung to other side of the small room. She was crying. The console Kallian had mentioned was built in the wall behind Mahariel's back.  
Zevran drew his daggers. The small sound startled Mahariel, drawing her attention. When she lifted up her face, Zevran could see the deep bloody lines her nails had torn into her once proud face.  
"I tried to take it off.", Mahariel said hoarsely. "But it wouldn't go. My vallaslin."  
Andruil's bow on Warden's face. The wardens riding on griffons, raiding death over Arlathan. Of course. Zevran just hated the moment when all pieces clicked together, because it never made things better. Understanding just gave more reasons to ask "what if".  
"Help me.", Mahariel whispered, but at the same time, her body twitched violently, and she started reaching for nearest weapon. A bow laying in a pool of blood, just out of her reach.  
"I will.", he said sadly.

Zevran's magic had gotten much better after Dread Wolf had started giving him lessons. He stepped through the Fade, closing on Mahariel before her fingers grasped the bow. He pulled her hair backwards, revealing her throat. All it took was one quick slash. She was not first old lover he had murdered.

Feeling numb, Zevran let the body fall on the floor and turned to face the console.

He had never thought his death would be like this. Killing a friend, well, maybe. Zevran had never attempted to entertain lies about his own grey sense of morality. But killing a friend to perform ridiculous suicide by an ancient puzzle, in hopes of summoning wandering gods back home? It was a death worth of a song. It would add to his reputation.

He considered the gems. Mahariel would have liked the green one, so he pressed that, and then the pink one just for fun. The big white one in the center looked important.  
The console flashed in warning.  
Zevran smiled and spread his fingers wide, pressing all gems he could reach at once.

\--

Fen'Harel was going to press his palm against the surface of eluvian, when June spoke.  
"The barrier system of Arlathan just fried someone.  
"Open the eluvian, Fen'Harel.", Mythal said with sharpness which could cut glass.

\--

"You must be very quiet.", Cyrion whispered as he lifted Siona up the trapdoor and crawled after her into the small empty space between the roof and upper floor ceiling. He pulled the trapdoor shut after them, placing a gentle suggestion to hide it from prying eyes. He was too old to fight, but compulsion spells came always handy in his profession.

They laid there, barely breathing and listening the screams coming from outside when Cyrion smelled the smoke.

\--

Ellana had expected many things when gods were released. Anger, of course. She had positioned herself to snap a barrier over Fen'Harel the moment someone came through the mirror. Drama. An ambush. But she didn't expect a tired-looking, skeletally thin young man, almost a boy still, stumbling through the mirror. When he saw Mythal, he tried to reach her, but a wall of ice suddenly appeared between them. From the corner of her eye, Ellana saw Fen'Harel putting down his staff.  
"He's clear.", Elgar'nan said after a moment.  
"By Void's sake, Fen'Harel, put it down.", Mythal snapped, and wall of ice disappeared. She opened her arms and pulled the young man into her embrace. He started crying in exhausted sobs, and Mythal stroked his long black hair with gentleness.  
"Shh.", she said. "Everything is all right now."  
"He is just mad. Mad!", the youth wept. "I've listened him going on about whispering voices and black thing for ages now, and he doesn't even remember his own name! I tried everything but I couldn't make him stop. His spirit has gone somewhere I can't follow."  
"Your father will fix this.", Mythal promised and nodded at Elgar'nan, who stepped through the mirror.  
"How are you so thin?", she asked, sounding worried. "You were supposed to be in uthenera. Fen'Harel told me you would sleep."  
"Even that idiot couldn't expect me to sleep while Dirthamen rocked himself from side to side and spurted blood all over the room.", Falon'Din sounded hysterical. "I spent most of my mana trying to make it stop, and then he started whispering about _things_ and laughing for no obvious reason. Nobody can sleep stuck in a cell with someone who tells he just waits me to fall asleep so he can peel my skin off, bit by bit. Then time went on, and I got more tired and tired, I started seeing the things he spoke of. My skin fell off, although I was awake, and he just sat in the corner and rocked himself. Was it true, mother? Was any of it true?"

Ellana felt sick.

\--

Cyrion could feel the heat coming from the other side of the trapdoor. It was warm to touch, and he was starting to get very worried.  
"I think we should leave.", the girl said. Red runes burned on her skin, and when Cyrion crawled closer, he could feel an aura of cold around her. Maybe they would not burn to death after all if they tried to get out.  
"Yes.", he said. "We should find another place to hide."

\--

Arlathan was burning. The dragon was breathing fire and chasing people along the streets. The soldiers were doing their best to evacuate people, but it was clear this was not a fight they could win with their army. The magic they wielded and their arrows were equally useless against dragon's thick scales. The elves of Arlathan were faring slightly better against griffon raiders, however. After Creators had learned about Forgotten Ones' return, they had made sure each adult in Arlathan knew what was their task and where to go if there was an attack. There were archers in the high buildings, shooting down the griffons, and soldiers below ready to slay the ones who didn't die in the fall. The riders were mostly shems, dressed like Wardens.

Kallian stood in the top of Tower of the Sun, watching the wreckage. She noticed that some of the griffons had landed in front of Andruil's temple, apparently attempting to breach the wards around it. The dragon herself was flying over the Boulevard of Joy, now, and it would soon be forced to rise higher to dodge the sparkling statue of Mythal and her children.

She drew her daggers, feeling the weight of weapon in her both hands. She would have wept for Zevran's fate, but this was not the time. Kallian had never sent anyone to his death before, much less a friend, but it was something the sentinels had prepared her for.

 _"There will be a time when you must choose who will die to save many.",_ Abelas had said. _"That is not the time to be a noble fool. Choosing your own death is easy. Choosing another's death so you can do what you must is much harder."_

Kallian knew she was the only one who had any hope of slowing Andruil down. The sentinels made extensive study of all Mythal's enemies, including all other gods. In their headquarters there was a tome after tome devoted to details like which spells each of the gods favored in combat, how their armor had been constructed in some particular fight, whether they were prone to defensive combat maneuvers or not. If Kallian managed to hurt Andruil badly enough, the goddess would likely shift her form, making her easier target for the soldiers.

The dragon was getting closer now. Kallian tensed her muscles, preparing to jump.

\--

Everyone was on the edge when eluvian's surface rippled again, and Elgar'nan stepped through. He stank of smoke and magic, and he carried an unconscious young man thrown over his shoulder.  
"I had to knock him out to finish it, but all traces of taint are gone now.", he said, and Ellana noticed his hands were trembling as he lifted Dirthamen down.  
"Senris.", Elgar'nan began, but Falon'Din interrupted him.  
"I can.", he said. They both looked like famine victims when Falon'Din hoisted Dirthamen up in his arms and by the looks on others, Ellana was not only one who expected Falon'Din to fall on ground.  
"Then it's Ghilan'nain.", Fen'Harel said.  
"We don't have time.", June said. "I already told you. Someone entered the wrong code in barrier system."  
"You are always worrying about your inventions.", Fen'harel pointed out.  
"Yes, but--"  
Elgar'nan's eyes widened and his body grew tense.  
"Siona.", he breathed and his form started to shimmer.  
"What about Siona?", Fen'Harel demanded, but Elgar'nan didn't listen. He had already changed.  
A black dragon started beating it's wings fervently, and draft would have knocked Falon'Din down if Mythal had not steadied him.  
"Elgar'nan!", Ellana screamed in rage when he took flight. "Come back at once and tell me what is wrong! You can't just leave like that, on your own! It's stupid!"

 

Of course, that was the moment when the darkspawn horde appeared.

 

\--

The dragon who was Andruil saw the golden peak of Tower of the Sun before her, and flew towards it. A powerful swing of her tail, and the glass windows making up the walls of highest floor broke. She wondered what else she needed to do to draw Elgar'nan here. Had someone gotten here before her? His temple looked like it had seen better days.

Suddenly she felt a stabbing pain on her back. There was weight which was not supposed to be there, and another stab pierced the soft flesh between her scales. Screeching, the dragon tried to shake off the creature who had attacked her, but it was stubborn and clung on.

"Mythal'enaste.", it hissed in her ear, and the dragon felt the freezing power of goddess blessing the creature's blade as it cut through her scales.  
A sentinel, then. That explained how it had gotten through her scales. Good. She screamed a battle cry and dove straight towards the crystal statue of Mythal and her children, shattering it. The deadly sharp shards could scarcely harm a dragon, but the creature on her back was another matter entirely.

\--

"I think now is the time for desperate measures.", June said, breathing heavily.  
Killing darkspawn was much harder and slower without Elgar'nan, and Mythal had to focus solely on shielding her boys. Even after Ellana, Fen'Harel and June had killed the last group with sentinels' help, they all could hear the whispers from the dark corners of tainted temple. The next wave was coming soon.  
"I agree.", Fen'Harel said. "I doubt we can make it to gate safely."  
"I can get us back instantly without using the gate, but moving so many people from wrong location would normally require an orb, which we don't have.", June said unhappily. "Doing it without an orb would drain someone's mana entirely, for months. It can't be me, since I need to be one working the spell and it shouldn't be Mythal. I don't want to see her murdered again."  
"I'll do it.", Fen'Harel offered.  
"No.", Ellana said. "If there is something wrong in Arlathan, you are more use there than I. I'm still boggled by sentient rooms and won't be much use to defend the city. I will do it."  
"I disagree.", Abelas informed her. "Couldn't you just once not to jump at chance to sacrifice yourself for a higher cause?"  
Fen'Harel and Abelas looked at each other.  
"I'll do it.", Fen'Harel said firmly, pushing Ellana aside.  
"As you wish.", June said, tinkering with a cube he had taken from his pocket. "A teleportation straight to front stairs of my temple coming up."

\--

Amidst the burning trees and smoke, Elgar'nan saw another, eerily familiar dragon. Andruil. There was an elf in golden armor dangling on it's back, and Andruil was trying to get rid of her. One of Mythal's, he thought. Seeing him, Andruil screamed a challenge, and Elgar'nan dove to meet it.

\--

The moment when black dragon appeared on the sky above Arlathan and Andruil screamed at it, Kallian Tabris knew she was going to die. Not caring about the fall anymore, she reached forwards and sliced deep to cut the tendons on Andruil's left wing. At that moment, the black dragon crashed against red one, and Kallian fell.

The story about seeing the events of one's life while falling to death was not true. She only saw the burning trees of Arlathan, and smoke on the night sky, before she crashed down hard. She barely had time feel something snap deep inside her, and then she saw no more.

\--

Siona stumbled out from burning building. The smoke hurt her eyes, and it was hard to see. People were screaming and there were soldiers running about, throwing ice spells or water over the burning buildings. And there were dragons in the sky. A black dragon and red one, circling each other. The red one stopped to flap on place, breathing fire, but the black one dodged it. The black dragon rose higher, and it breathed lightning, making red one scream.  
"Papae.", she whispered.  
The black one attacked again, but this time they both were sent whirling across the sky, black dragon's talons and teeth tearing at red one. Blood spurted everywhere, and they both screamed. Siona closed her eyes, not wanting to see.  
"We must go to safety.", Cyrion said, pulling her arm.  
She opened her eyes again, just in time to see both dragons falling from the sky. There was a huge boom when they fell down, and people started screaming and shouting. It took a moment before Siona understood they were _happy_.  
"But it's papae.", Siona said, panicking. She slipped from Cyrion's grip and ran.

She ran as fast as she could, searching, until she saw people just standing and looking towards the hill near her home. Siona pushed her way past them, not caring what they shouted after her. There was a red dragon, but it looked dead, and it didn't move. She looked around, but the black dragon wasn't there, and she was going to start to cry.  
"You shouldn't have come.", papae's voice said, scolding, as he rose to his knees behind red dragon's corpse.  
"Papae!", she ran to him, feeling so relieved. He hugged him, but something was wrong. He didn't hold her tight like he usually did.  
"Papae. Are you all right?", she asked, the panic creeping back again. His face was grey. Eldest of the Sun could not be greyish. He was supposed to be shining and beautiful!  
"I think there was something.. wrong with the blood.", papae said slowly and then he just fell on the grass. Siona tried to lift him up, but he was too heavy, and he didn't answer when she spoke.  
"Papae!", she screamed. "Senris! Senris, where are you? Fen'Harel, Mythal, someone!"

By the time Senris came, papae's hand in hers was turning cold.


	32. Death and ruin II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lengths sentinels are willing to go to save their lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of angst-chapter 31 I had to cut for pacing.

Siona held papae's hand. It was cooling between hers. For Siona, it was just one more sign for the pure wrongness of the situation. Papae was always warm. When he used magic, his skin felt hot to touch. He was fading away, and Siona did not know what to do to stop it.  
Mythal was sitting on the other side of the bed in makeshift bedroom Senris had arranged in temple. There were tears in her eyes, and she held papae's other hand.  
"Siona.", Senris called her. "It's time to go to bed."

  
"We need to talk in private.", Senris told her as he started walking to wrong direction. Siona was confused, but Senris held her hand firmly.  
Senris did not lead her to bedroom, but to different part of the temple, where the elvhen worshipped Eldest of the Sun. Unlike their private quarters, this wing was still intact.

 

When Senris pushed open the doors to inner sanctum of the temple, Amanya was there, with nine other sentinels. There were priests, too, standing around the holy pool. Siona looked at their familiar faces, trying to understand the odd range of emotions on them. She saw fear, anger, hunger for revenge.. But the oddest one was pity and worry she saw in their eyes when they looked at her. The doors were barred again before Senris spoke.  
"Our lord is fading.", Senris addressed his brothers and sisters. "The poison in Andruil's blood is beyond Mythal's skill to heal. His light is growing dim, and eventually it will be extinguished."  
"What will we do?", Llowyn asked, his voice strained. He was one of the younger sentinels, joined in the last centuries of first empire. "We can't become wraiths of a fallen lord like Mythal's guardians were for so long. Our lord is strong, and if he falls, no other can stand against Forgotten Ones."  
"We have one last chance.", Senris said severely. "It is not a path lightly chosen."  
Siona noticed all of them looking at her, and it made her feel nervous.  
"Little lady.", Senris said, kneeling on one knee in front of her. "You must know your father is dying."  
Siona nodded, tears blinding her vision.  
"There is a way to save him, but it is very dangerous path to walk. It requires great courage and still many of us might fall. Da'len, you must be the one to walk that road. We all are bound to Elgar'nan, but you are only one who is still young enough. We are too old, and we are not his children."  
"I will do whatever I have to if papae does not die.", Siona said, her voice breaking.  
"You hold a special place in our lord's heart. I saw with my own eyes how he made you into his own image, blood and bone. You were a small thing, mere moments old, and still covered in blood of your birth. He named you and claimed you. He bound you to him, as he has bound all of us. You, da'len, are as much his chosen as any of us, but you are also his daughter.", Senris held her little hands in his. His touch was familiar, comforting, but his face was serious.  
"You drank from the Well of Light, like we all have done.", Amanya said. She was standing behind Senris and looking sad yet resolute. "And that is why you must be a guardian your papae needs. He needs you to be very brave, Siona."  
She nodded, not trusting her voice enough to speak.  
"Do you remember the story about Elgar'nan's parents? Sun and Earth, and how he threw sun into abyss when it burned the gifts his mother had given to him?", Senris asked.  
"I know it.", Siona whispered. She was getting nervous.  
"It is true. He did imprison the sun, and only let him go when Mythal pleaded. But he kept a part of sun's essence imprisoned even after he released his father. Our lord was wise. He knew that one day he might need it and the power it holds. You, our little lady, must bring it to him, so he will live."  
"I don't know where it is.", Siona said anxiously. "I don't know even where to start looking, and if I try, the other Creators will stop me. Fen'Harel, mamae or grandfather will never let me leave."  
"It is true.", Amanya said. "But Senris knows where to go. He knows where our lord hid the sun. He and nine others will ride with you, and take you all way to Sunless Lands. There you will find the sun's essence, and bring it to Elgar'nan."  
"While the guardians will certainly stop you, even accompanied by us, none of them would dare to stop our lord from going where he wills. And if we move now, before the morning comes and the word gets out, nobody will ask questions.", Senris told her.  
"And you are certain this will save papae? If I go to Sunless lands and bring back the essence of sun to him?", Siona asked.  
"It is only way.", Senris said. "We all love you, little lady. You are our da'len, the only one sentinels can have, and the temple has been happier place after you came to us. I would not ask this from you if it wasn't necessary. The essence of sun cannot be held by one of us. Our spirits are too old, unchanging. Yours is still young, and your form is unfinished, similar enough to our lord's. It will bear the magic for long enough to get back here."  
"I will do it. For papae.", Siona said, her voice shaking.  
Senris nodded. He closed his eyes, looking regretful, and gently kissed her forehead. Then his expression changed and he stood up, in command again.  
"Amanya. Your mission is to keep everyone in dark as long as you can. Seven days should be enough, if we ride hard. Buy us that time, no matter what the cost. Once we cross the border to darkness of Sunless Lands, even Dirthamen can't find us. The Creators must not stop us, or our lord will be lost.", Senris ordered.  
"I will see to it.", Amanya bowed with her hand over her heart. "We will shed blood if it is needed. We will not fail our lord."

 --

 

She rose from the holy pool, her legs shaking. It was too easy to break the surface of water. She no longer needed to swim. When Siona straightened herself, the nausea came over her. The edges of the pool were no longer on the level of her eyes, and the water reached halfway to her waist.  
"Keep your eyes open, my lady.", one of the priests commanded, sounding worried.  
"I think I'm feeling sick.", she said weakly, and even her own voice sounded odd in her ears. It was no longer light and flute-like, but there was breaking, breathless quality Siona didn't recognize or remember.  
They gave her a bucket, just in time, and as Siona heaved she heard the concerned voices talking around her.  
"The runes resist her change, commander.", the high priest said quietly. "We have to use more force than I expected. Surely this will be enough?"  
"No.", Senris said, his decision firm. "Even if we got through the gates by luck, we can't bring a girl in her first bloom to Sunless lands or every creature there will think her as easy prey. She must be taller to have a proper reach with weapons. Continue."

 

They took the bucket away, and the chant began again, lighting up the runes on the edges of the pool one by one.

 

\----

When the magic let go of her, Siona crashed under the surface of pool. Eyes open but not seeing, she floated in cool water, her mind empty of all thoughts. It was like having a ghost of a body. Her mind knew the length of her arm and the size of the palm of her hand, but when she attempted to move her fingers, the measurements were all wrong. The sensation was disorienting, and unable to handle it, she gave up trying. Slowly, Siona began to sink deeper into pool, until her back hit the mosaic floor in the bottom. Her lungs ached for air, but standing up was like a puzzle she couldn't find a will to solve. Her legs were heavy, different shape and too long, and her whole body weighed more than she had been used to.

When she regained her sight, she found herself watching the familiar faces of the sentinels. They were talking, because their mouths were moving, but there was no sound under the water. There was a splash of water, and hands pulling her up, interrupting her peace. The touch on her bare skin brought a horrible overload of sensations and emotions, when all her newly changed neural pathways lighted up at once, and Siona screamed as her head broke the surface.  
"Let go let go let go!", her voice filled the chamber, and it was nothing like she remembered. It was husky and rich, not hers.  
"Can you stand?", Senris demanded. "Siona, can you stand?"  
Her breath was coming in rapid, shallow movements and she was on verge of tears, but she did not dare to cry, because tears would have felt like molten metal on her skin.  
"Let go. It hurts when you touch me.", she pleaded in voice which was not hers.  
"Fenedhis lasa.", Senris cursed under his breath and bent down, slipping his arm under her knees and another around her back. He lifted her out from the water.  
"Bring the armor, now!", he snarled at his brothers and sisters. "Venial, your clothes should fit her well enough to wear under it."  
Siona tried to shelter herself from the sounds around her, the commotion. She knew she should try to figure out how to move this strange new body of hers, but it was like all her senses had locked her down in a never ending, overwhelming sensation of sound and feeling. It hurt, it hurt so badly, and she needed to drown it somehow, to block it out. Someone was screaming, but she didn't understand it was her own voice.  
"Siona. Da'len.", Senris spoke to her. "Concentrate. Breathe in. And out. Just like I taught you. You remember. Empty your mind, and just breathe. Breathe. We will help you."

 ---

The armor helped. The heavy weight of metal on her body dulled all other sensations and protected her from anyone touching her bare skin. They had dimmed out the lights in the room, and chased away the priests after they had assured Senris that there were no injuries to her body or her spirit. The forced change had simply been too quick for her to comprehend.  
Siona had seen a glimpse of new body when the sentinels dressed her like a child. Her legs were longer, and she had small breasts, now. Of course she had known it would be so, but it was different to see. She was childishly grateful for the armor, because it blocked her sight of herself, too. It was too much to take in.

By the time Senris and Amanya had adjusted the armor to fit her and she stood in front of the mirror, Siona was feeling much better. She could actually think, watching her reflection with interest. Her face was no longer soft and rounded, childish. Senris had been right. She did look a lot like papae, yet different. She cocked her head tentatively on the side, watching the girl in the mirror doing same thing. The reflection was not adult yet, a maiden still, but she was as tall as Senris. Siona was pleased she hadn't grown up ugly. The whole business with holy pool had been bad enough. Spots on her face would have been too much to deal with.

"This is like my favorite bedtime story. The girl who stole her father's armor and went to war instead of him.", she noted as Amanya closed the clasp of papae's silvery-black cloak. The fabric fell in waves from her shoulders, and the deep red lining was pretty.  
"Indeed.", there was a spark of gruff laughter in Senris' voice. "We'll keep it in mind when we try to explain Elgar'nan what happened."  
Siona took the battle diadem from Amanya and placed it on her hair,  
"If it helps, we could try to tell him that I inherited the penchant for trickery from the Dread Wolf.", she said thoughtfully.  
"We'll consider it. Now, Siona, all of this will be for naught if we are caught once you step out from this room.", Senris told her with grave seriousness. "Llowyn will cast a glamour on your face, but you must be the Eldest of the Sun. Every gesture, every look. Do not to talk. Imagine your papae when he is feeling cranky. Our lives depend on how well you can act."  
"Yes, hahren.", Siona said, rolling her shoulders and then waiting for Llowyn to finish his spell.

 

She straightened her back, holding herself regally, and put the faint, arrogant smile on her lips as she clasped her hands behind her back. In the mirror, she saw papae repeating the exact same things. It looked funny.  
"That looks good.", Lisel said, appearing from shadows next to her.  
"Thank you, little one.", Siona gave her a heavy-lidded look.  
"Not that gesture, Siona.", Senris snapped. "You are still ten, no matter how old you might look."  
"But you just said that I should--"  
"Just no, Siona.", Senris said, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked like his head was hurting. Siona didn't understand why.  
"A pity.", the desire demon sighed. "But I came to help. You all want to succeed so badly. I couldn't help but being drawn here."  
Her form changed, and in her place stood a little girl whose hair was neatly divided to two braids. Lisel couldn't quite catch the peculiar shine of Siona's hair, and her eyes still held an eerie glow of Beyond but otherwise she was a very good copy.  
"I've wanted to play with your enchanted doll house for some time now. And I like your toys.", Lisel smiled smugly as she pulled Siona's former clothes over her head. "Being a princess must be lots of fun."  
"Just make sure you put everything back in the way it was.", Siona said, not entirely pleased. "The last piece of Golden City puzzle is still missing, and it's your fault."  
"Yes, papae.", Lisel said in childish, light voice which surely was not Siona's. It had not sounded like that inside her head.  
Annoyed, Siona stuck her tongue out at Lisel. It didn't look dignified at all. No wonder papae didn't do that. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, then Lisel who was giggling, and then back to mirror. Siona started to giggle too. Senris muttered something and shook his head, but Siona knew him well enough to tell that he wasn't angry, or even annoyed. More like relieved. Or maybe sad. Why, she could not tell.

\--

It was maybe an hour before dawn when the elves guarding the only eluvian in Arlathan heard the thunder of hooves approaching.  
"Halt!", Fiona shouted. "Who comes here?"  
"My lord requires you to open the gates for him in haste.", Senris' familiar voice replied from the dark. He rode closer, letting the light fall on him. "We must not be delayed in our pursuit."  
Fiona was just going to protest that she could not open the gates to anyone, not even for Senris, when Elgar'nan rode forwards, flanked by nine sentinels in formation. He looked straight at Fiona, his expression arrogant and cold as he let go the reins he had been holding and snapped his fingers impatiently.  
"Open the gates.", Fiona turned to her men. She had heard rumors of Elgar'nan being wounded in the fight against the Forgotten Ones earlier today, and whatever had happened to him, it clearly had not made him less volatile than usual. Not sparing her another look, Elgar'nan took the reins again and led his men inside. Senris hurried to eluvian, activating it, and his master rode through.

Afterwards, Fiona always blamed herself for not wondering why Elgar'nan had not opened the eluvian himself.

 

 

 

 


	33. Broken weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas attempts to lure his broken comrade back from the door of death. 
> 
> or "Being disabled in Thedas is not pretty".

Kallian Tabris had not expected Beyond look like a drab infirmary room. Seeing Mythal by her bedside was not entirely surprising.  
"I have to say I'm disappointed in afterlife.", she croaked.  
"Many are.", Mythal remarked. "Personally, I was too."  
There were dark circles under All-Mother's eyes, and she looked drained.  
"Tell me, girl, how do you feel?", she asked.  
Kallian closed her eyes and tentatively went over her injuries. Her head hurt like hell and someone had shaved off the left side of her hair. Her hands touched a large scar on her scalp which was still tender. Hands working. Good. Arms working. Lots of pain in the ribs. But below her hips.. Nothing.  
"I.", she swallowed, the horrible realization coming to her. "I can't feel _my legs_."  
She remembered falling from the sky, crashing on the ground, and a loud snap she had heard just before losing consciousness.  
"Don't tell me it was my spine.", Kallian's voice trembled. "Please, Mythal, no."  
"I don't need to tell you something you already know, Kallian.", Mythal said sadly.  
Kallian burst into desperate tears for first time since Soris' death.

Mythal let her cry for some time, but when her weeping finally subdued, she spoke.  
"You will never regain what you lost. We have done what we can, but there are limits to healing someone who was born under the Veil. In time, you might find ways to circumvent your losses, but you can't serve me as my sentinel anymore, Kallian. I came to release you from my service."  
"So I'm crippled and jobless, too!", she slapped a hand against her forehead, her eyes red-rimmed. "Oh, by Maker's balls! It would have been better to die! What happened to 'pledging myself to your service in life and death', Mythal? You can't forsake me now! Like I was some broken tool!"  
"Death is only one of your possible choices, Kallian.", Mythal said calmly. "You have given enough in my service. I will not ask more from you."  
"I just want to die! I can't live like this!", she screamed at Mythal. Kallian pushed herself to sit up, willing her stupid legs to move and walk, but they didn't obey. It felt like there was nothing.  
"Can't and won't are two different things.", Mythal replied. "But if you insist on dying, don't let me keep you. You are free to do as you wish, now."  
All-Mother stood up and took a dagger from her belt and placed it on the seat of a chair she had been sitting on. Then she turned and left, leaving her former sentinel alone.

As she closed the door behind her and stepped into hallway, two elves flanked her.  
"I told her.", Mythal said to Cyrion and Abelas.  
"How did she take it?", Cyrion asked. He looked miserable.  
"How do you expect?", Mythal arched her eyebrows. "If I were you, Abelas, I would not spend too long loitering in hallway. She did not react well to her freedom."  
"My poor girl.", Cyrion broke down.  
"No.", Abelas said sharply. "Don't ever say that to her. Losing hope and purpose is the quickest way to death."  
"I would suggest annoying her.", Mythal advised. "Kallian can't stand pity, but furious people rarely have time to sink into depths of despair."  
"I can do that.", Abelas said, and then they heard a loud thump from the room.

 

As the door closed behind Mythal, Kallian thought only about the dagger. She tried to reach with her hand, but the cursed All-Mother had put it just beyond her reach. Oh, the blessings of Creators, truly.  
"Death is only one of your possible choices, Kallian.", she muttered herself, imitating Mythal's irritating voice. She was not going to live like this. She simply could not.  
She turned on her side to measure the distance between her bed and the armchair where dagger was. It was painstaking and slow, because her stupid legs were just lumps of dead flesh and didn't help at all in the motion. Her head was throbbing, and she felt too dizzy to even try to use magic. And killing oneself with magic was not easy even without being stuffed full of pain medicine and who knew what they had given to her. So it would have to be the dagger.

A stubborn look on her face, Kallian gripped the edge of the mattress and pulled herself near the edge. Once she was there, she twisted her torso and rolled, promptly falling on the floor. There was a loud thump, and for a moment, Kallian really regretted doing it. Falling purposefully from a bed with broken ribs hurt. But she would not give up. She was already dead in all ways which counted. Now she only needed to finish the job.

Kallian placed the palms of her hands against the floor, and dragged her dead weight towards the armchair. Inch by inch, she wormed closer to her goal. She had never thought that those hated one-handed pushups Melana liked to include in morning drills would be useful in situation like this, but they solved the problem of getting up from the floor without legs.

She was balancing on one hand while the other fumbled to find the dagger, when she heard the door being pushed open. Knowing there might be disagreement about her choice, Kallian tensed her torso and tried to lunge forwards. Her fingers caught the dagger, but at same time, she fell again, this time hitting her chin on the hard edge of the chair.  
"Oh, by Andraste's tits.", she groaned, tasting blood in her mouth.  
"This is not what I wanted to see.", Abelas stated, placing a book on her bed. He walked the short distance, which had taken Kallian so long, in mere moment and yanked the dagger from her hand.  
"Give it back!", Kallian screamed at him, but the bastard didn't listen. He opened a window and dropped the dagger down from it. Then Abelas promptly closed the window.  
"What did you do?", she was furious. "You stole my dagger and threw it away! You can't do that, you bloody idiot!"  
"I believe I just did.", he said. Unceremoniously, he lifted her up and back on her hateful bed.  
Pulling a footstool from under her bed, Abelas sat comfortably down in the armchair, put his legs up and opened the book he had brought.  
"Do you recall anything about 'Ominous in Orzammar'?", he asked.  
The question was so far separated from reality that Kallian was taken aback.  
"What?", she asked.  
"We are in chapter seven, but I wasn't sure if you heard.", Abelas said, flipping through the pages. "I will start again from the beginning, then. I'm not sure yet who is the murderer, so re-reading isn't a problem."  
"I know what you are trying to do. You are trying to distract me. It won't work.", Kallian hissed. "I'm still crippled, and I want to die."  
Abelas looked at her with arrogant look on his face.  
"I have been granted a vacation by Mythal. If I choose to spend it here, you can't very well throw me out, can you?"  
Kallian wanted to punch him.  
"Get out."  
Abelas ignored her demand and opened the book at first page.  
"Chapter one. Raelnor Hawkwind knew a job was coming up to break a dry spell of his mercenary company when he read a note the dwarven woman offered to him. It was written in messy, angular script of Orzammar dwarves. _'That fool has no idea of how weak his house is, or how low he sits in it. Shall I have him killed, my lady?_ '", he began reading.  
Kallian sank back on her pillows, and stared at the ceiling, fuming quietly. At least the book didn't sound like some romantic sob story. She didn't think she could have handled it.

 

After four days and two mysterious murders by dwarven serial killer, Kallian's life had settled into odd routine. Abelas arrived with his book in mid-morning, sat down and began reading. They took a break at midday, when Abelas went somewhere - presumably to eat, she thought - and Kallian stared at a bowl of soup with no interest to eat it. He returned in the afternoon, took up his book again and stayed until one of healer apprentices who worked evenings shooed him out.  
"..Hawkwind pushed the curtain aside and saw a dark stain on the floor. The path of blood ended here, but he knew the murderer could not have gotten far...",  
"What happened to dragon?", Kallian asked abruptly.  
Abelas closed his book, diligently marking the page with a bookmark.  
"I mean Andruil.", she added, not looking at him.  
"The dragon was killed, but Mythal does not believe it was end of her. Like any blighted creature, Andruil could simply jump to carrier of taint and create herself again.", Abelas said.  
Kallian nodded, but didn't say anything.  
Abelas looked at his book, but didn't open it again.  
"What happened to you?", he asked. "Nobody seems to know. You were found laying on the ground, unconscious and badly injured."  
Kallian turned her head to look at him.  
"I had [a Riordan moment](https://youtu.be/SJluXgulCkk)."  
"What is that?", Abelas asked, not understanding.  
"Riordan was the unlucky Orlesian Warden who tried to kill the archdemon in the Battle of Denerim. He climbed on a top of tower, jumped on blighted dragon's back and stabbed it several times. Then he fell.", Kallian said.  
Abelas opened his mouth to reply, but fragility in her expression stopped him.  
"The murderer, Abelas. I need to know if he is working for King Aeducan or his supposedly dead older sister.", Kallian said, closing her eyes.  
He saw tears starting to fall under her lashes. Moving his chair a bit closer, he took her hand in his, and opened his book again. She didn't pull away. Her fingers curled over the back of his hand, and they were warm.  
"The trail of blood disappeared abruptly in front of bookshelf. But Hawkwind was no spring chicken; he was sure there was some kind of ingenious mechanism hiding a secret door. Now he only needed a way to open it before lord Dace would return to his bedroom..."

 

Abelas read how Hawkwind blindly chased his trail of blood into Deep Roads, across the abandoned thaig and finally into depths of Bownammar.  
"..there was light in a darkness, a noise coming where there should have been nothing but silence. Hawkwind sneaked closer to faint glow of torchlight and when he looked below, excitement of chase was suddenly replaced by thrill of success. There were dozens of dwarves gathered in the stone hall below, and Hawkwind saw the familiar figure in black cloak climbing on a partially crumbled dais to address them.."  
"Excuse me, sentinel, but the visiting hours are at end.", the dark-skinned healer apprentice coughed at the door.  
"Not now!", Kallian snapped, pulling her hand away to push herself up to sit. "I need to know the name of the murderer."  
"The rules are rules.", the apprentice smiled with irritating blandness people used with children and infirm.  
Kallian's eyes narrowed.  
"I think you should consider leaving this place soon.", Abelas remarked as he slipped the bookmark between right pages. "There is no reason for you to stay."  
"I'll take it under advertisement.", Kallian said, still staring daggers at the apprentice.  
Abelas took his book and left, well pleased with day's progress.

\--

 

His good mood didn't last long after he arrived back to his house. When he opened the food cupboard, he noticed that someone had eaten his halla milk yoghurt and not bothered to save seed to make new batch. Sharing a house with two Creators was just like that. They ate whatever they wanted and never remembered to buy groceries. There was only a bit of chicken left, and Abelas hated the taste. He had gotten more than his fill of birds during the long years of his vigil at Vir'Abelasan.  
"I think Siona might be sick.", Ellana began. "I have tried to see her twice this week, but the sentinels said that she was with Elgar'nan and could not be disturbed. Today they finally let me in for a short while, and her eyes looked red. Maybe some kind of eye infection."  
"Or crying.", Abelas pointed out.  
"Not like that.", his daughter said, shaking her head. "I think this should be treated."  
"How did your meeting go?", Fen'Harel asked.  
Abelas had not invited him to live here, but God of Rebellion had drifted in at soon after Ellana's imprisonment and never really left. Fen'Harel visited his own temple occasionally to ward away squatters, but most days he was around in dinnertime. More often now that Ellana had returned.  
"She didn't shoot me.", Ellana said carefully. "So it went all right, but we didn't really talk either. She suffered being in the same room with me while she played with the doll house."  
"It is progress.", Fen'Harel agreed. "I'm planning to go there in two days to start her lessons, and I can check if there is a minor infection. She needs to get better with shielding her emotions in the Fade, especially with the whole situation with Elgar'nan."  
"I haven't seen Elgar'nan at all. Or Senris.", Ellana said thoughtfully.  
"He would not want anyone to see him if he is weak.", Fen'Harel said. "I don't know what is wrong with him, only that he was wounded in the battle against Andruil."  
Looking at Abelas, he added:  
"Mythal certainly knows."  
"Then you should ask her, or Elgar'nan's sentinels.", Abelas replied coolly, picking on despised chicken leg. "I prefer to mind my own business."

 

It wasn't exactly true. When Abelas arrived to infirmary next morning, he was stopped by an apprentice.  
"The Keeper is talking with the patient.", the dark-skinned girl said. "You should come back later."  
"What they are talking about?", Abelas asked.  
"We can only disclose details to family members.", the girl parroted.  
Abelas was starting to dislike her.  
"Kallian Tabris is Mythal's sentinel, and I am the leader of Mythal's guardians.", he said, giving girl the glare which had subdued whole generations of cocky trainees. "I wish to meet this Keeper of yours."  
The girl flinched visibly. She wouldn't have made a good sentinel. Those who would complete the training usually glared right back at him.  
"Of course, sentinel. I'm sorry, sentinel.", she apologized and even opened the door for him.

First thing Abelas noticed was that damned dagger. Kallian was holding it in her hands, looking forlornly at the blade.  
"In your case, there is nothing more we can do. I have consulted the recordings in House of Healing, and they speak of old enchantments which could be tailored to give a very limited range of magically powered movement within the four walls. Some houses of Arlathan have them. Even then, best you could expect could be ability to step through the Fade from one room to another, using your own mana. But I talked with your father, and he says that your family is not originally from here."  
"It's true.", Kallian said quietly. "My cousin went through every single building, and none of the gates opened."  
"So that option is out. Do you have any family except your father and cousin? Your father is not a young man."  
"No."  
"Where do you live?"  
She smiled without joy.  
"Mythal released me from her service, and my father's tavern burned in attack. Nowhere."  
The Keeper sighed.  
"I'm sorry, Kallian, but in your case, there aren't any good options left. No matter how badly I wish it would be otherwise, even ours is not a society which could care for those who can't provide for themselves, or support their clan in some way. Especially during a war."  
"I know.", she nodded.  
"I can make it easy for you. There is a potion which makes it painless. Just like falling asleep.", the woman said and patted Kallian's hand. "I'm very sorry."  
Kallian looked a bit annoyed.  
"Keeper. I'm a killer by trade. I'm not particularly afraid of dying. Just tell me how many days until you need this room free, and I will deal with it."  
"I didn't mean it like that."  
"Of course.", Kallian replied. "But if you excuse me. I have a guest."

Abelas sat on his chair, glaring after the Keeper.  
"I presume you stood there long enough to hear all of it?", Kallian asked, playing with the dagger.  
"Give me that."  
She turned to look at him.  
"Abelas. In all seriousness. If you had to choose between an unknown poison or perfectly good dagger, which one you would take? I would sooner trust my own hand, which still works, instead of wondering if my daily soup has been poisoned because someone else thinks it's best. And in case you didn't sneak in time to hear all options, they also have a spirit of Compassion who does quick and clean mercy killings for incurable patients."  
She touched the surface of the blade with her fingertips.  
"Mythal even inscribed this for me. _Kallian's choice_.", she remarked. "That's how it ended back here. Someone found it from the bushes."  
"I will make sure to throw it further next time.", Abelas snapped.  
"You can't make my choices for me.", Kallian's eyes were firm as she hid the dagger under her pillows. "I will not be your slave. Now, could we please return to daily schedule. I've been thinking. I suspect that the Denerim merchant who goes on about fine dwarven crafts is the murderer."  
"I would place my money on king himself.", Abelas said, trying to push away dark thoughts. "He would have motive to tie up loose ends. After all, the princess was late kings' favorite."

When apprentices started to rattle dishes behind door, it was time to leave. Abelas didn't want to.  
"Are you still here when I return?", he asked, trying to keep his tone calm and neutral.  
"I wouldn't die just before the cliffhanger.", Kallian told him. "My father raised me better than that. And I didn't plan to eat their broth in any case."  
Abelas nodded, not wholly assured, but he couldn't stay here looming all day.  
"Then I just have to trust your word.", he sighed, standing up.  
"You would have trusted my word in the field. How is it now any different?", she asked.  
The answer came to him as soon as she voiced the question. Because it wasn't about trusting another sentinel. It was about Kallian, and her life, everything she was and what she could mean outside the bounds of duty. But he couldn't make himself to say it out loud. It wasn't the right time. So he fled instead.

 

There were only two chapters left. It wasn't acceptable. So Abelas turned to north instead of south, heading towards June's temple. He would borrow another dwarven murder mystery from God of Craft, and start reading it today, so she would have to stay a little longer.

"Abelas!", June greeted him as he was shown to god's workroom. "What brings you here? Any news about Elgar'nan or the boys?"  
"No, I came to ask a personal trade.", Abelas said, holding his book. "I would like to borrow another one of these and... You once said that you needed someone to draft you a contract on some of your inventions. So other Creators couldn't use them without a compensation. Is your offer still valid?"  
June flashed a pleased smile.  
"Indeed it is, especially after Dirthamen gets better and starts sneaking around again. Like I said when we last spoke of this, I would be willing to trade for your expertise in this matter. Is there something you would like?"  
"There is. A favor for my friend. She was permanently injured in fight against Andruil, and lost the use of her legs. The records in the House of Healing mention some kind of enchantment which could assist her.", Abelas began.  
"I think I know the type you mean. It's quite straightforward, but if you want to apply it now, it would require an old house with active, existing enchantments of some type. Enspelling the base takes centuries of work. Adding to existing one is much quicker job.", June leaned against his elbows.  
"I have a very old house. It has been in my family since founding of Arlathan.", Abelas said, the words somehow clumsy on his tongue. This was not how he had originally planned to discuss this particular idea with Kallian, but all his plans had changed after her fall, and the house was big enough to lead a private life if she wished to. It would be better than Compassion. And he already lived with Dread Wolf. Someone he actually liked would be a welcome change.  
"It would do.", the God of Craft announced. "You draft me a basic contract, I will do enchantments to your house. A deal?"  
"A deal.", Abelas nodded.

Instead of returning home to eat, he bought a pie from a market and then went to Mythal's temple to write in peace. Even though he liked his granddaughter, he did not want to get distracted by latest speculation of possible eye infection and Dalish herbal salves. No. He had to think how to present this in right way, so she could still have a choice.  
Maybe a rental arrangement would do. Yes. A rental arrangement, and she would be able to cover the cost and have something to put aside if he filed a claim to Mythal for permanent injury suffered in goddess' service. He had seen a prior case like that somewhere in old records from 2000s. Melana might remember the details.

Satisfied, Abelas started to write.

\--

 

"So. Let me get this straight.", Kallian said slowly. "You are offering to rent me a room in your own house, which would be outfitted with those odd enchantments, and I'm eligible for some kind of stipend from Mythal for being a former sentinel."  
"That is correct.", Abelas nodded. To be on safe side, he had brought her a pie. People were much more open to suggestions when they weren't hungry.  
"Your daughter lives there?"  
"And Dread Wolf.", he said unhappily.  
"Are you doing this out of pity?", she asked straight.  
"I don't want you to die. And it would be a welcome change to share my house with someone I actually like. I don't like the Wolf.", he stated calmly.  
"What one does have to do to irk you?", Kallian queried as she took another bite of the pie.  
"Steal the yoghurt.", he admitted reluctantly. "Forget to restore glyph of fire after taking a bath. Demanding me to open the wards in the middle of the night. Having loud sex with my daughter when I want to sleep. Although the last two were mostly in Brecilian forest."  
"At least I won't be doing the last two.", Kallian remarked. "Not with these legs."  
"I thought your injuries-", Abelas began, but then he remember how odd the Dalish were about these things. He didn't actually know whether city elves shared the same ideas.  
"The Keeper claims I could retain some sensation.", Kallian shrugged, undisturbed. "But I'm not going to worm my way into anyone's bedroom, so you and yours are safe from me."  
Abelas wanted to say that being safe was certainly not his intention or something he wanted, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.  
"So you'll consider it?", he asked.  
"I will consider it.", Kallian said. "Come back tomorrow morning and we'll speak of it."

Pleased with this agreement, Abelas opened his book and they finished "Ominous in Orzammar". The murderer was actually the lady Aeducan herself, who felt slighted after her lover and Second, Gorim Saelac, had wronged her by marrying another mere months after they had promised to meet in Denerim. They had a enjoyable discussion about princess' plot to steal her throne back, and neither of them felt bad for King Bhelen's death.  
When Abelas went home, he felt better than in long time. His steps were light, and he smiled when he fell asleep.

Sadly, Abelas did not know his not-son-in-law and his daughter would have yet another horrible family crisis next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Orzammar murder mystery might have something to do with my DA:O experiences. This excellent video "The Wrongness of Gorim" explains my feelings perfectly. (I ran straight to Denerim from Lothering, too.)  
> https://youtu.be/zjGtzOuiAss


	34. Korcari Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..where the sentinels educate Siona in faith of the Maker  
> ..their map fails them repeatedly  
> ..they have a taste of Elven Heresy Resolution  
> ..a sacrifice is made  
> ..Siona's arrows no longer veer right  
> ..lady Lindrinae is left behind  
> ..Senris proves himself to be a devious translator  
> ..and poor lady Siona ends up in a dustpan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I* got the damned pneumonia Elgar'nan wanted to have. (too much immersion?!?) I fainted during X-ray and twisted my ankle when I fell, so now I can't literally do anything except write fanfiction and cough my lungs out. Can't believe my luck. Not a stylish disease, Elgar'nan.
> 
> I spent half a day reading about medieval swordfighting, and found out all kinds of interesting things. Like doing cartwheels in full armor was actually a part of fitness program for young squires. The evil sentinels didn't just make it up.
> 
> Physical training for young squire http://www.thearma.org/essays/fit/RennFit.htm#.VVtQokasYgQ  
> How to kill a man in full plate armor http://www.quora.com/How-did-soldiers-die-while-wearing-a-suit-of-armor-or-other-historical-armor  
> How historical swordfighting is different from the one we see in movies http://io9.com/5918644/swordfighting-not-what-you-think-it-is

"This doesn't look right.", Senris said when their party reached the end of Imperial Highway. "Llowyn, are you certain we have not gotten lost?"  
"The map says that this is Lothering. A trading post serving the nearby fortress of Ostagar."  
"There is nothing but ruins and a shemlen temple."  
"Figures.", Senris snorted. "Quick-bloods are just like that. It's pain to try to keep maps up with their constant flitting. They can't build anything lasting, and evidently they can't even decide where they should put their villages."  
"The air smells odd.", Siona said, wrinkling her nose. "A bit rotten, putrid, too sweet."  
"The whole place has been Blighted. The ground is poisoned, and nobody has cleaned it up.", Senris told her. "This is what happens if you leave barbarians in charge. Don't touch anything without gloves."  
Siona swallowed. When she looked around with magic, it was like a dark, vile shadow fell over everything. There were no plants or flowers, only some deep mushrooms. Even the water was oily and black in the eyes of her magic, and she couldn't understand how anyone could even think of drinking it. The whole place, this Lothering, was empty and evil.  
"How one can clean something so evil?", she asked.  
The sentinels exchanged glances. Several of them were grinning. Venial answered her:  
"You know how new life can rise from ashes of the old one, and destruction is necessary for growth? Well, in the old days of empire, people prayed for our lord to tame the Earth. If he granted their request, we gathered some spirits of Vengeance and Rage to come along and then we all went down to burn the place to ground. It was great fun. For once, we could wreak as much havoc as we wanted and nobody complained to Mythal."  
"Generally, if one wants to purify ground, he should go at least four metres under the surface and burn through everything. Not a single stone should be left intact.", Senris remarked clinically.  
"But if it can be done, and you have done it many times," Siona saw them nodd, "why the shemlen just build a ugly little temple and move away?"  
"They are shemlen.", Llowyn shrugged. "There is no logic in what they do. They believe, for example, that their god has turned away from them and now they attempt to woo his favor back by repeating something called Chant of Light. They claim it's the word of the Maker."  
Siona didn't get it.  
"But if their god doesn't like them, how repeating what he said makes him like them any better? If a god says something, everyone should listen and obey at once. Papae would burn someone who annoyed him by playing a talking parrot. And I don't think anyone, even this Maker, would be happy to get a ugly, small temple on tainted ground. It's horribly insulting gift."  
"I think you summarized the whole problem with shemlen faith very nicely, little one.", Venial said in motherly fashion. "One day, their god will simply run out of patience and kill them all."  
"I had counted on Lothering being here, but since it isn't, we might seek a shelter from their temple for a night. I'm no longer certain if the Ostagar fortress marked on Llowyn's map is there either, so we should not head deeper in the Wilds before sunrise.", Senris said. "Besides, seeing a shemlen temple is educational experience."  
"Have you seen many of them, Senris?", Siona asked curiously.  
"The last one I visited with our lord in Minrathous, was better than this one, but still not very impressive. It was called 'Argent Spire', but it was just a tower made of black stone. It didn't even float above ground. The humans had a high priest there, who had put our lord's foci in the back of his throne.", Senris told her. "They called it 'Sunburst throne', like the one they have in south for female priests. For a man serving the word of the Maker, this Black Divine should not have been so surprised when his own throne burned a hole through him."

 

"The single weapon offers you more maneuverability because your center of gravity stays controlled. Dual wielding requires one weapon to be used defensively and another for attack; although it offers more options for each, they will still be weaker. That is not a trade you should even consider with your current strength levels. Also, you would need extraordinary personal barriers to avoid the downfalls of single-handed grip on each weapon. Against dual-wielder, a smart enemy always attempts to knock the weapon away with sufficiently powerful blow."; Llowyn lectured to breathless Siona who had just finished twelve rounds around the Chantry.  
"Can I at least take the armor off? It's heavy.", she wailed.  
"Of course not.", Llowyn grinned. "Actually, since you managed finish twelve rounds today, I'll ask Senris to tune down his spell. You don't need so much assistance to bear the weight. Within two months, you should be able to wear full plate without cheating."  
Siona rolled her eyes, looking at sky.  
"Now, little one, we will train the basics. Timing, distance, leverage. Coverage and binding, strike and ward in motion.", Llowyn said and stood up. "One sword will suffice."

After the hour of practice was up, Siona was so tired that she scrambled inside ugly shemlen temple, sat down against the wall and fell asleep.  
"I remember that phase.", Venial remarked.  
"I was quite surprised she didn't fell asleep during cartwheels.", Llowyn admitted.  
The sentinels cackled.  
"First watch should wake her up, help her out of the armor and make her eat something. If she sleeps like that whole night, she'll be too sore to ride tomorrow.", Senris stated calmly. "No watch duty."  
"Aww, Senris, you're being soft!", Olaus remarked.  
"You never let me to skip watches when I was new to order!", Lovenna exclaimed. She was brushing their harts near the altar of the Maker.  
" _You can always sleep in uthenera_.", the sentinels chorused.  
"That was because you were louts. Still are. Whether you have slept a full night or not, hardly makes any difference mentally.", Senris sniffed. "Besides, night watch is generally reserved for people who can kill intruders."

 

\--

"Intruders!", Olaus' shout startled Siona awake. "Six templars!"  
All around her, the sentinels were waking up and reaching for their armor and weapons.  
It took two minutes to don a full-plate armor with assistance. One minute if one did it hastily, and ignored the obvious drawbacks to defence. Senris always said all enemies except those trying to assassinate Elgar'nan would just have to wait two minutes. The sentinels needed four minutes to get ready.  
Siona scrambled up, ignoring the stiffness in her limbs, and ran to door.  
"Formation of three.", Llowyn snapped to her, letting her take a place between him and Olaus. It was safest spot. Siona's terrified eyes saw the yard full of armored shemlen in skirts. They had the sunburst insignia on their shields, and they were yelling something she didn't understand. Llowyn laughed at them, arrogant and bloodthirsty laugh, and Siona felt his mana surging.  
Ring of fire flashed in the dark over the despoiled ground, surrounding them. Siona let go the breath she hadn't noticed she was holding. The humans would stay on the other side of flames, and sentinels would be safe inside the ring of fire. But then one of the knights laughed right back at Llowyn, spread his arms and there was a sucking sensation in the air. The flames died, and Siona could feel Llowyn flinch for the backlash of a spell forcibly interrupted.  
"Crude, but effective. No matter. We'll do it hard way, then. Go for the gaps between plates, Siona. Armpits, back of the knee, groin. They will go for your face.", Llowyn commanded quietly.  
"Let them do that, and kill them while they wonder why they keep missing their strikes.", Olaus added. "One hand on sword's hilt, another halfway down the blade. Think it like half-spear."  
Then the humans were upon them. Siona invoked her barriers.

Under helmet's nose guard, the templar had brown eyes and blond hair growing out from his face. He looked at Siona oddly, reminding her of Lisel's expression when the desire demon had seen the dollhouse she wanted, and said something which made the sentinels angry. His grin was not pretty, and Siona was genuinely perpexled when he lifted up the flat of his sword. It was not to kill, but knock her out. Shemlen waged war oddly. It was a good thing, because it gave her the perfect opening, but it made no sense. Taking papae's sword like Olaus had instructed, she took a step forwards, close enough to smell his breath, and pushed the blade through against the hardened leather covering his right armpit. Elgar'nan's sword cut through it easily, and Siona twisted the blade, severing the bicep tendons. The man screamed and his sword fell, causing Siona's ears rang when the broadsword slammed on the barrier created by papae's battle diadem. She pulled her sword back, and it was just like that horrible moment in the woods again, because blade was red, red. But there were more templars, and this one was screaming. Wanting to make him stop, Siona slammed her shoulder against his chest with all her strength, making him to fall. The brown-eyed shemlen crashed down. His throat was hairy and unprotected, and he looked very angry. Frightened, Siona just stabbed down before he could stand up, and suddenly there were rivers of red and a gurgling noise which made her feel cold all over. She felt sick.

\--

"I want to go home.", she wept desolately against Senris' chest. "I want to go home to papae. I'm not brave enough to do this."  
"Shh, da'len.", Senris said, stroking her hair.  
"I can't do this, Senris, I just can't. He made a horrible gurgling noise.", Siona clung to his shirt, her whole body shaking with sobs. "I can't save papae if a sound can make me afraid. You all will die because I'm not brave enough."  
"Da'len, you did what you had to do. If you had not acted, he would have killed you instead.", Senris told her. "This is the reality we train you for. It is not a game. This will happen again, many times, before we reach the secret temple in Sunless lands."  
Siona made a miserable little noise, and cried only harder. Senris sighed, and held her tight. His brothers and sisters couldn't quite meet his eyes, sorrow and regret clearly written on their faces. It was easy to let oneself be fooled by the way Siona looked like, now. To start treating her like any new recruit, and forget she was just a child. A year ago she had been a toddler making sand cakes at Elgar'nan's feet. Pushing her to so fast this was cruel enough to bring them all to Mythal's court. Asking Siona's own opinion had been nothing but an empty gesture. Senris had known she would agree, and she had no idea what she was agreeing on. Blind trust towards the ones she considered family had brought them all to this moment, and it would take them as far as they had to go. He had to believe that. To go this far and fail would be unacceptable.  
"Why that human let me kill him? He didn't even try! He lifted his arms up, like he was _stupid_."  
"I don't know, little one.", Senris said. He would, soon, because Llowyn and Olaus were outside questioning the last surviving human and they were clearly angry about something. But Siona would be spared from that, at least.  
"You need to sleep, Siona."  
"I can't.", she said. "What if I hear gurgling?"  
"No Dreamer hears gurgling in her sleep.", Senris said in his firmest voice. It was the one he used to coax drunk Elgar'nan against his most dreadful ideas. "You know that very well. You were smart enough to follow Dread Wolf through the Fade. You can choose what to dream about."  
"Yes. I'll dream of home.", she said, the frantic beats of her heart slowing down.  
It didn't take long for her breath to even out, and when the girl relaxed against him, Senris knew she was asleep. Carefully, he lowered Siona down on a bedroll and pulled Elgar'nan's nicest red cloak over her, tucking lady Lindrinae in the crook of her arm.  
"Watch over her.", he said to Venial who nodded. "I'm going outside."

They had finished questioning the prisoner, and were just cleaning up the blood.  
"The templars were hunting a group of shemlen elves from Redcliffe. When Veil broke, all of them started showing signs of magic, and Chantry is trying to cut down all they can find. They call it Elven Heresy Resolution, part two.", Olaus spat.  
Senris grimaced. Disgusting.  
"And what about the one Siona killed?", Senris asked.  
"Another part of Elven Heresy Resolution. It's even worse.", Llowyn kicked the man's corpse. "The slavers pay a good coin for young and fertile women. In north, the Imperial Chantry pays a stipend for begetting a half-breed shem bastard on elvhen woman. They try to breed us out, and to make those misbegotten creatures a chain around their mother's feet."  
"But this is far from Tevinter.", Senris said, shocked.  
"Even the barbarians of Korcari Wilds are trading in elves now, said the templar. Slavers pay five to ten gold for a female elf, depending on looks. Three extra for a virgin. And if she is young, beautiful and a trained mage.. Those Magisters would pay anything to beget a son or daughter who later manifests talents of a Somniari. After all, nobody can tell if the mother was an elf or not.", Llowyn said.

 

Senris woke Siona early in the next morning.  
"It's time we left to Ostagar", he said. "I've thought of a game. You should pick a new name."  
"New name?", Siona was secretly thrilled. Elvhen took new names when their lives changed in major way.  
"Yes.", Senris nodded seriously. "We need to trade with Chasind wilders soon, and they must not know where we come from or who we are. You should come up with boy's name, so we can call you that. Olaus can teach you how to braid your hair like a young man would."  
"Enfanim. I'll be lord Enfanim.", Siona announced. She wasn't stupid; she knew that Senris didn't care enough about Chasind to ask her to choose a new name because of them. Elvhen of Arlathan surely sought their group by now, but they would look for a little girl, not a young man.  
"Very well.", Senris nodded, standing up. "Go to see Olaus. We are leaving shortly."

 

\----

 

Their map was very bad one. Siona decided that if they ever needed to steal a map from Mythal again, they would not send a desire demon to do it. Ostagar was not a fortress, but a pile of ruins, filled with mindless ones shemlen called darkspawn. The sentinels turned west as soon as they saw, but there were mindless ones in the swamps as well. They looked terrifying and wrong, but killing was easier on second time, and after third time Siona figured out why. She couldn't feel sorry for creatures which were so _wrong_.

They continued south until one day there was a mindless one laying under water, waiting for a prey. It caught Lovenna's ankle and pulled her down in the water as she walked by. Lovenna killed it, but two days later, she became sick with a fever. Nobody was ever sick in Arlathan. Siona could remember only the measles, and it was shemlen disease. Senris got a hard look in his eyes, and told Siona not to touch Lovenna without gloves. They consulted the map again. It claimed there was a hut, only day's travel to west, and so the sentinels headed there.

 

The map was right about this one thing. There was a hut built over a swamp next to broken wall, and an odd statue of headless woman with no hands. The hut looked very big from the outside, but inside, there was only one room. The mindless ones didn't come near it. There were many, many of them in the swamp, but there was old strong magic around the hut, and it seemed like the darkspawn just forgot there was a hut at all.

Much to her surprise, Siona had found a grimoire written in elvish from a pile of books in the floor. It was marked with leafless tree, Mythal's symbol, and it had very interesting spells. She began reading it, because Senris and others didn't want her to stay inside with Lovenna being so sick, and the yard was safe enough. It would have been better if the hut's magic would have killed mosquitoes as well, but the grimoire had a solution for that. A bit of elecricity twisted just so caused a high noise which Siona could not hear, but it made mosquitoes drop dead as soon as they came within fifteen feet. It only had to be renewed twice a day with a tiny cost of mana. Mythal's servant, who had invented it, must have really hated mosquitoes.  
She tried to go back inside, where the others were, but they didn't let her.  
"You should go back out, little one.", Lovenna said, but the sentinels stood in front of her so Siona couldn't see anything. It was annoying. She was almost as tall as Olaus or Llowyn, as tall as Senris, but still they managed to block her sight.  
"I don't talk in my sleep. I wouldn't disturb you.", Siona resisted.  
"I know.", Lovenna said, trying to laugh but it turned into a cough. "But da'len, you need to listen. I have talked with others. There is a spell I know, which will speed your way to Sunless Lands and past the mindless ones. It is very strong spell, and you should not come inside, because if you grow too much, you can't carry the essence of the sun. I will work the spell here inside, and you must wait in the yard."  
When Venial and Olaus came to keep her company in the yard, they didn't want to talk about Lovenna's spell. Siona had a nagging feeling that she shouldn't ask about it, either.

 

On the second day, she heard voices from the swamp. Venial and Olaus went to investigate.  
"The elves the templars were hunting for are wandering around here. Poor shadows.", Venial shook her head. "Probably won't last a night."  
"Shouldn't we help them?", Siona asked, feeling worried.  
"We can't help them, da'len.", Venial said. "We can't take them home, and we can't help them to fight darkspawn either. We would only get infected with Blight, like Lovenna. Their fate is in their own hands. But our lord's fate is in our hands. Our duty is to him."  
Siona nodded. It was hard way of thinking, but she remembered how grey and cold papae was, and it was easier to be hard, then. It made killing easier, too.  
"Do you think papae is still alive?", she asked from Venial.  
"We would know if our lord was no more.", sentinel told her. "He is still alive, albeit weakened. Our lord is strong, and he will linger until help comes."  
Siona nodded, deciding to believe what Venial said. It had to be so. She didn't believe sentinels would continue this journey if there was no hope left. They would all go to kill Andruil instead.  
"But since you are curious, Senris said that you may climb on the top of stone wall and count their numbers and any weapons they might carry. It's good exercise. Strength and minor scrying."  
Siona nodded eagerly. Magic had gotten much easier now she wasn't as small anymore. It was like having a larger mind which worked better on complicated things, and sentinels were much more forthcoming with information like spells, now, than they had been in Arlathan. She didn't mind that Senris, of course, had meant climbing the wall with armor on.

 

The elves reminded Siona of those who had wanted to buy mead and Merrill's homebrew in Cyrion's tavern before attack. They were small and fine-boned, like those born under the Veil, but their clothes looked poor and they didn't have much weapons. Their little boy looked very odd to Siona. Short and thin. Every da'len Siona had ever seen was strong and sturdy, like Dalish Keeper babies who had been born only few weeks after her, papae had said. They were still young, of course. They didn't talk much and their mothers kept them in a halla pen when they needed to do adult things. Siona had seen them when Fen'Harel had insisted she should have friends of her own age. After that, Dread Wolf had to admit there were none in Arlathan. She was the oldest, and already had her magic, and even Fen'harel couldn't demand she should play with children who still ate mud voluntarily. Maybe even a maggot or two. Siona shivered. She was lucky that papae would never have allowed her to do something so banal. She had asked him to be sure, and Elgar'nan had assured her that she had eaten only a bit of golden sand and some finest flowers of his gardens.

The Thedosian elves seemed to be lost, and there was no hope for them after the sun would go down and mindless ones stirred. Siona felt bad for them, and she would have prayed Dread Wolf for them, because that was what one should do when all was lost. But she was fairly certain that Dread Wolf was listening, so she could not. Fen'Harel would drag her back to Arlathan and papae would die. Papae couldn't die.

She counted their numbers. Six adults and two da'len.. Two women, four men. One boy around her old age, and a lovely, chubby little baby. The baby was elvhen, it looked so new it must had been born after the Veil. Siona counted the weapons, too, like Senris had ordered. The adults had two bows with six arrows each, and one short sword. The woman carrying the baby in a sling had a dagger. She looked very tired, and when she sat down on a rock to nurse the baby, her little boy almost fell asleep against her skirt.

 

When the sun went down, Siona didn't want to look, but she didn't want to go back down, either. There was red glow coming through the closed shutters of the hut, and it made her nervous. All the sentinels were inside, and she was here alone. She tried to read the grimoire, but she couldn't concentrate. There was mumbled chanting inside; she thought she heard Senris' voice but couldn't make out the words, and Lovenna crying out for papae. Except she was not calling him 'our lord' like usually, but his name. It was more like an invocation. And the mindless ones stirred in the swamp, preying on the poor elves.  
When the screaming began in the swamp, Siona put the book away in her backpack, unable to look. She hid her face in her hands instead, feeling like a coward. She counted the different voices suddenly cut short, and she knew that the men were dead. Siona wept behind her hands. The little one and baby had lost their papae, because she had to protect his. The elves had no weapons left except one dagger, and these women were not sentinels. They couldn't fight, although they tried. There was more shouting, terrified screams, but the sound grew more and more distant with each breath until she could no longer hear it.

 

Siona lifted up her hand, wiping tears away, when she heard the most horrible sound during whole night. It was a baby. It was the baby crying thin and sharp noise. Siona looked at the direction of it, and she saw the terrified little boy trying to summon a ball of light. There were two mindless ones crouched above the chubby baby, and they were pinching it's soft little arms and legs with just hard enough to make it hurt. They were playing with it, making the baby cry on purpose.

Siona couldn't let it be. She took her bow, pulled the quiver over her shoulder, and climbed down the wall as fast as she could. She ran past the protective wards into woods, and opened her senses to magic around her. The baby was still crying in the wrong way, sharp and thin cry of pain, and the boy was shouting at the mindless ones hysterically. Siona pressed close to shadows, like Olaus and Lovenna did, and chose carefully where to step, to make sure there would be no sound at all. If the mindless ones heard someone was coming to rescue, they would kill the baby at once.

\--

"Stop! Stop hurting Velanna!", Elandrin cried, but the darkspawn didn't care. Velanna's face was all red now and she cried, kicking her little hands and feet which were blooming in bruises. She made a horrible noise which didn't sound like her crying when she was wet or hungry. This was keen noise which hurt Elandrin's heart. He had taken the baby and ran when mamae told him to, but he hadn't been quick enough, or strong enough. The darkspawn had found him only moments after and they took the baby from him.  
The bigger darkspawn laughed, and it sounded evil. The big one took Velanna's leg, and started to turn it slowly, but to wrong direction. The baby was screaming so loud now, and Elandrin couldn't bear it. He jumped between the darkspawn, trying to grab Velanna and run, but the smaller darkspawn pulled him away just when he felt the fabric of Velanna's swaddling bands under his fingers.  
The stocky darkspawn looked at him, it's face bald and twisted, a mockery of smile revealing dozens of sharp teeth. It held him in the air by throat, and Elandrin was feeling faint when he saw an arrow whistling through the air, immediatly followed by another. The baby stopped screaming, and Elandrin started to cry. Then he saw the big darkspawn falling down, two arrows piercing it's throat.  
The darkspawn holding him dropped him down suddenly, almost falling over him. Elandrin crawled away from under it, and saw an arrow on the back of it's neck, too. Alarmed, he looked for Velanna, and then he saw oddest sight of his seven years. An elf in black armor was lifting up the baby. His armor was all metal, not leather like Redcliffe hunters had. There was a bow on his back, and a sword on his right side. He had no helmet, but a shining diadem on his braided hair, like a crown.The whole outfit was as grand as Knight-Commander Elandrin had seen once at Chantry service, and finer still. Something a king would wear, Elandrin assumed, if there could be something like elven king.

The elf looked at Elandrin, saying something, but he didn't understand anything except da'len. It meant "little one". Mamae had sometimes called him da'len, but it was illegal to use elvish words. If you did, the Templars saved you from the promises of pagan gods.  
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean, but please, master, don't leave us here.", he begged teary-eyed.  
The man walked to him, knelt down on one knee, and put Elandrin's arms tightly around Velanna before slipping one of his own under Elandrin's knees, another around his back. Elandrin understood, nodding eagerly. He wanted to carry them. The elf was grown up and taller than papae. Hopefully he would be fast runner, too, because Elandrin heard the sound of someone waddling in the water.

Elandrin could hear the frantic beating of elf king's heart through his armor when he started to run. Templars never ran in their armor; they rode horses. Elandrin screamed when a big darkspawn cut their way, but the elf king murmured few words, and there was a flash of magic. Suddenly the darkspawn had a head full of black, oily hair, and it couldn't see anything. Elandrin started to giggle hysterically, holding Velanna as hard as he could. Velanna was stupid like little babies are, and she smiled toothlessly back at him.  
The king flung another spell far to their left. It looked like quick flickering of lights, which died down almost instantly, and reappeared again a bit further to left. The king stopped in a shady spot between two trees, putting his finger on his lips as a sign of silence. Elandrin nodded again, and they listened the sound of steps turning to left. When everything was silent again, the king stood up, but this time he moved very quietly, from one shadow to another. It looked like he was walking straigth to mire, but then Elandrin felt something cold sweeping over them, and suddenly their whole environment had changed.

 

There was a hut by the broken stone wall, and eleven harts tied to various trees around the swamp. The king put them down, breathing heavily, and smiled. He took a backpack someone had left on the ground and pulled out a doll. He gave it to baby. Velanna stared at the doll, and tried put it's hand into her mouth.  
"Lady Lindrinae.", the king said, pointing at the doll, and Elandrin repeated after him.  
"Elandrin.", Elandrin said, pointing at himself first, then the baby. "Velanna."  
The king took Elandrin's hand carefully and pointed at Elandrin.  
"Ir Elandrin.", the king said, the elvish word falling easily from his lips. He rummaged through backpack some more and then pulled out a very short sword, little more than a long dagger in old leather scabbard. The king touched the blade on his belt, saying slowly and clearly:  
"Mir mi."  
He touched the blade between them, and said:  
"Mi."  
"So sword is mi.", Elandrin asked, eager to figure it out. It took three tries before the king was satisfied with his pronounciation, but then when Elandrin finally got it right, the king smiled and pushed the small blade to him.  
"Mi Elandrin.", the king said, pulling it out from the scabbard and showing him the set of carved runes on the blade. "Elgar'nan enansal."  
Elandrin thought Elgar'nan's name was somewhat familiar, but he couldn't remember how. Maybe he was one of the demon gods. But the blade was a gift, and he could not refuse someone who had just saved their lives. Templars had made them run until they got lost in a swamp and darkspawn came, and papae was dead and mamae was gone, and he had to have a blade.  
The king seemed to understand some of it, because there was a soft shine in his blue eyes when he repeated:  
"Elgar'nan enansal, da'len."

They spoke no more of it, because he took a folded cloth from his backpack, and spread it over the grass. A splendid meal appeared on it by magic, complete with a big glass of milk for the baby. The elven king took a handkerchief and wet it in the milk, letting Velanna to suck it. Elandrin had not seen so much food after they had left Redcliffe. There was fruit, and bread, which tasted fresh from oven, hot enough for butter to melt into it. The meat was different than anything Elandrin had previously eaten, but he ate until his stomach was so full it hurt.

 

Velanna had fallen almost asleep in king's arms. The king was singing in soft voice to baby, and Elandrin thought it was a lullaby. He was feeling drowsy himself, but then the door of hut opened, and an elf walked out. He was dressed in black armor, too, and he had forbidden tattoos on his face. He was older than the one who had saved them, and his expression was furious as he saw Elandrin and Velanna. Suddenly scared again, Elandrin hid behind their elf, trying to be very small and invisible.

The tattooed elf strode to them, speaking quick and angry elvish. Elandrin could not make any sense of it. Their elf replied, his tone apologizing and humble, and Elandrin understood he had been wrong. He was not a king. Probably this one tattooed one was. Their elf was gesturing angrily now, showing the other elf the livid bruises on Velanna's skin. The tattooed elf's face twisted in disgust, and he sighed, whispering words of magic as he carefully held his hands above Velanna. In front of Elandrin's eyes, the bruises turned paler and paler, until they were gone.  
"Do you have any injuries, boy?", the tattooed elf asked in trade language.  
Elandrin was so startled that he barely could answer.  
"Only a few bruises, sire.", he whispered.  
"Did the darkspawn break your skin? Or his?", the tattooed elf nodded towards their elf.  
"No. He shot them with arrows and made one all hairy, so it couldn't see anything.", Elandrin said.  
"Good for you.", the man said. He wasn't very nice. "Listen carefully, child. We are leaving this place, and we can't take you with us. But the darkspawn cannot come through the wards. If you don't go further than those two lanters hanging from poles, you are safe. Never go past them. There is a Blight coming, and worse."  
"But we will starve! The bog water makes people sick, and we have no food!", Elandrin cried out.  
"If you do a small task for me, I will reward you. We will leave you a magic trinket just like the one you already feasted upon, and some spare clothes.", the man said.  
"What is this task?", Elandrin asked carefully.  
"Soon you will see a red light coming from inside the hut. When it is gone, you must go in. You will find ashes on the floor. Scrub the blood off, breaking the circle first. They are from a body of woman who sacrificed herself to save our lord, and I want you to dig a hole and bury her remains. Plant a tree to mark the grave. Her name was lady Siona, and the doll your sister has and the blade you hold were once hers. Treat those gifts with respect, because she was the only daughter of our lord Elgar'nan, and very dear to us all.", the man said, sounding sad.  
"I'm sorry, sire. I will do it for you.", Elandrin swallowed. "Did she get a Blight sickness?"  
"She chose death willingly, to help us to save our lord.", the man said and stood up. "Remember. Bury her and plant a tree to mark her sacrifice. You can keep anything you might find from the hut."  
They went to harts, speaking in elvish to animals, and the tattooed man took a sack from grey hart, throwing it on the ground near Elandrin. The hut's door opened again, and the harts trotted obediently inside. Their elf waved at them before the tattooed man pushed him inside the hut, too.

 

Elandrin didn't know much about magic. Nobody could teach him, and he knew only the light spell. But when the red flashed behind the closed shutters of hut, every hair on Elandrin's head stood up. He had never felt anything like the power rolling over them. Velanna in his arms was twisting and turning, and before Elandrin's horrified eyes, his baby sister grew. She was no longer a new baby who only laid and sucked teat and cried. She sat on the ground on her own, now, and looked like two-year-old.  
"This must be the Fade.", Elandrin whispered, terrified. Maybe the elves had been demons, wanting to lead him away from the safety of Maker's arms by answering his every prayer, because now he wouldn't have to change swaddling clothes.

 

It took a long time before Elandrin dared to go in. It was mostly because he was afraid Velanna would wander away, and he took his little sister by hand, gathering their treasures from the grass. Carefully they approached the hut. There was a stool in the corner, and Elandrin made Velanna to sit on it with lady Lindrinae as he bolted the door.  
The floor in front of fireplace was a terrible sight. Just like things the templars warned people about. There were strange symbols written in fresh blood, and in the middle of circle, there was a skeleton burnt to crisp. Elandrin swallowed and took a bucket, running outside to fill it with bog water. Once he was back inside, he locked the door again, and started scrubbing. Trying not to look, he scrubbed until his arms ached. It took long time to wipe away all the blood, but they couldn't live in a house looking like a hovel. That was mother always had told him when it was time to clean.

The circle of blood was broken, now. Elandrin touched the skeleton carefully with a very old broom he had found from the corner, and it turned into ashes. He felt bad for poor lady Siona when he swept her remains in a dustpan. Velanna was almost falling off her stool, being so tired, so Elandrin took a break to look around the hut. There was a bed in far corner of it, and it looked relatively clean yet old. They both would fit in.

After Velanna had fallen asleep, Elandrin went outside with a shovel to dig grave for lady Siona . He had found a magic tablecloth from the sack like the tattooed elf had promised, and it had given apples and porridge this time. Elandrin had quickly eaten one of the apples to get seeds for the tree.

He dug diligently for a long time, not wanting to shortchange his benefactors. When he was too tired to work anymore, he went to get the dustpan and carefully poured the ashes into hole. Elandrin threw all seeds on the ashes, and started to fill the hole again. It was quicker work than digging, and it didn't take long to finish.  
"Sleep well beyond the Fade, poor lady Siona.", Elandrin said quietly. "And mamae and papae, too. Uncle Willem. Cousin Norrel and cousin Erion. Aunt Finnan. Sleep well, wherever you are."

New Witch of the Wilds took his shovel and went inside their new hut, bolting the door and eating still warm porridge before falling asleep next to his sister.

 


	35. Faces of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythal pays a visit to Abelas' family and gives a history lesson.
> 
> The rules in House of Healing are non-negotiable.

 

 

> Mythal,
> 
> I invoke the promise you made to me after First Schism. Elgar'nan is fading; I can feel it. I have taken Siona and nine other sentinels with me to serve my purpose. If I am interrupted, disturbed or followed in any way, there will be consequences. If my lord dies, our deal will be over.
> 
> Senris

 

Mythal stared at the note with unseeing eyes. She had been woken up at sunrise by Melana, who told that Amanya had arrived from Elgar'nan's temple, insisting that she had urgent message for Great Protector. She had expected to hear that Elgar'nan had taken a turn to worse. But not this. It had been so long time she had almost forgotten. She had been so young then, young and full of regret and heartache.  
"When did they leave, Amanya?", she asked.  
Elgar'nan's sentinel looked uneasy as she answered.  
"I was instructed to wait seven days before delivering note to you."  
Mythal rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to decide how to best proceed.  
"And my sun?"  
"Our lord is not doing well. It seems almost like.. I think he got worse after they left."  
"I will come to see him later. But first, I have to deal with this.", Mythal replied. "Melana. I require an escort to Abelas' house. I want to meet him, Fen'Harel and Ellana as soon as possible. Make it a full squad."

\--

Abelas hated being woken up by Well of Sorrows. At least the Dread Wolf looked equally grumpy, and his expression didn't get any brighter when Ellana placed a steaming mug of tea in front of him.  
"I will teach you to like tea before you get your mana back.", she said, sinking her fingers briefly into Fen'Harel's glorious mane of ginger hair.  
"I doubt it is possible.", Fen'Harel replied. "I'm the only non-magical elf in whole city. I need something stronger than tea to get through this."  
Despite Wolf's whining, Abelas didn't miss the way Fen'harel leaned against her touch, or how his frown deepened when Ellana went to get more cups. Reconciliation was in the air. Abelas sighed.  
"Do you have any active recording systems running, Abelas?", Mythal asked, sitting at the head of the table.  
Abelas could see his brothers and sisters standing in formation behind the window. One more reason not to like this morning.  
"No. There isn't any in the kitchen.", Abelas said, and to his astonishment, he felt the tentative touch of Well in his mind. Mythal was double-checking to know if he spoke truth.  
"Good.", Mythal nodded, taking a sip of her tea. "We need to discuss some early history. Ellana. Which is the earliest memory of mine you can recall?"  
Ellana sat down next to Abelas and considered.  
"The moment when you gave magic as a gift to your children.", she said.  
"How diplomatically put.", Mythal said dryly. "It does sound better than 'humping like rabbits in primeval forest."  
Ellana spurted hot tea all over her tunic. Cursing, she pulled the burning hot, wet fabric away from her skin and tried to dry it with a spell.  
"If she got burns, I'll blame you.", Fen'Harel noted. "You did it on purpose."  
"I didn't do anything. You are blaming me simply because you can't offer your services as healer.", Mythal said virtuously. "When you were young, you were willing to do anything to get a close look on nice pair of boobs. I remember you like hers."  
Ellana was devastated. She was fiery red and wanted nothing but disappear under the table. She pulled Abelas' sleeve under the tablecloth to plead help, and Abelas sighed inwardly. Dalish upbringing had been a mistake. Or maybe it had been Mythal's idea of fun. Who knew.  
"Could we go on, please. I don't have all morning.", Abelas asked and rose up to get his halla yoghurt. He had bought a new jar yesterday evening after he had returned from infirmary and warded it. Simple cantrip was all he needed to enjoy the spoils of his own kitchen, now that Dread Wolf had no magic. Lovely. And to enjoy the experience to fullest, he was going to eat his yoghurt in front of Fen'Harel.  
"Got places to be?", Mythal asked with light amusement.  
"I do have a life of my own. Which doesn't include you three.", Abelas said arrogantly, spooning his treat into small glass bowl.  
"Oh, dear. I wouldn't have thought you'd grow up so fast.", All-Mother's words were mocking, but her smile was genuinely pleased for a brief moment. But the happiness didn't stay there for long.

"I actually came to tell you a story you don't want to hear.", Mythal began. "Once, a very long time ago, I made a mistake. It was during the time of First Schism."  
"What is First Schism?", Fen'Harel asked. "I've never heard such term."  
"You shouldn't have heard it.", Mythal replied. "There was a pantheon of sorts before Creators and Elvhenan, long before Arlathan, or any of you. The time itself was young. Our people were few, and there were still those among elvhen who had left the Fade at Elgar'nan's tempting. He was softer at that age, and his thirst of vengeance didn't run so deep. All that came later. The world was ours, and we were happy."  
"But time of innocence rarely lasts. A disagreement rose among our companions about what the world should be like. We had three close friends, and the most vocal of them was Geldauran. She was the second one to step out from Fade and become flesh. A spirit of Wisdom, who experienced a thirst of new knowledge, and a drive to learn more than there was. She had already seen the world like it was, but she wanted more. We encouraged her, eager to see what kind of gifts there could be. Her work was splendid, but there was a project Elgar'nan didn't accept. Geldauran wanted to dig under the surface of earth, to see wonders hidden there. Elgar'nan denied her, stating that Geldauran could enjoy freely what there was above ground but he would not see his mother scarred again.", Mythal took a sip of her tea.  
Fen'Harel tried to look skeptical, but couldn't quite pull it off after Geldauran's name was first mentioned. She knew very well that her friend didn't believe the common myth about Elgar'nan's parents, but Fen'Harel had been friends with Geldauran, once, and Mythal didn't think Geldauran's basic nature had changed that much. Ellana and Abelas were just listening at her, unconsciously mirroring the exact same expression, lips slightly parted and eyes focused on Mythal's face. Good.  
"Geldauran said she did not bow to his authority. She said that gods were made by deed, not birth. It was first time anyone had uttered the word 'god'. Elgar'nan loved Earth fiercely, and would not see her harmed. Now that I think of it, Elgar'nan at that age reminds me a lot about that girl you three keep arguing about, because he shot Geldauran stop her."  
"From that shot, a war broke among us. Our inner circle split, and it was my fault. I failed to trust a friend's loyalty, and the results were catastrophic. Another friend we all loved, died. People started to pick sides and whom to serve. The first sentinels on both sides were born of my distrust in those early days of war, and things were never same again. I made a promise that if the same fate ever threatened Elgar'nan, I would step aside and obey. Not suspect and question. Now Senris has cashed that promise.", Mythal finished.  
"After all this time?", Ellana asked.  
"It's a good policy to keep records, otherwise too much would be lost in death.", Mythal stated simply. "Leadership position within sentinels is rarely a long-term one."  
"One should not rejoice for having to rise to occasion in such circumstances.", Abelas said stiffly.  
"That is true.", Fen'Harel said, his compassion real this time.  
"I hadn't finished yet.", Mythal said sharply. "I got a word from Elgar'nan's temple this morning. My sun is dying. Senris has taken those most loyal to Elgar'nan and left to find a way to save my love."  
That was when Abelas knew why Mythal had came. Slowly, he rose up and carried his empty bowl to sink. It was glass and potential weapon. He stood by the window, waiting until his gaze met Melana's eyes, and his fingers made the secret signs in front of his body so others would not see. _Soon. Protect. Flee._  
"I don't know where the sentinels have gone, but nobody will look for them. If it becomes public knowledge that Elgar'nan's light is dying, Dirthamen and Falon'Din are too far twisted from their original natures to be trusted, and you, Fen'Harel, are temporarily drained of your magic, we will lose this war. Do you understand the gravity of this? Not a single word to anyone.", Mythal spoke to Fen'Harel and Ellana. They hadn't understood yet.  
  
Thinking back, Abelas had known. Not known this would happen, of course, but had known the direction it had been going for years. It had felt like natural order of things. Something easier to understand than the oddity of his youngest child's life. It had always been so in his family. They were priest caste. Although not all were sentinels or priests, they all served in some way. Like any other bond, there were times it chafed, and times Abelas wanted to kick Mythal into Void, but he couldn't deny he loved her. She had always been his choice, through good and ill. As he remembered the boy he had been, swallowing his tears to stay unmoving to take vallaslin, he could understand the girl who had left with Senris. He was proud of Siona, in his own quiet way. She was a true daughter of this house. And he knew her parents would not see this in same way at all.

"You have explained this very carefully, and I'm sorry to hear about Elgar'nan.", Ellana said. "But in these circumstances, I don't think Siona should live there. If Senris is gone, and Elgar'nan is very ill, who takes care of her? She should be at home. If not with me, then with her father."  
Abelas moved quietly a bit closer. Ellana was not formally a member of pantheon yet. She had no sentinels, no power base, and it had already been proved that Mythal could overpower her easily. Still, striking All-Mother was not something an aspirant should even consider. No matter what the reason.  
"Let me spell it out for you, girl.", Mythal sighed. "Senris took those most loyal to Elgar'nan. Including Siona. She is no longer here. You will not search for her, you will not tell anyone, and you will be what People need you to be. Weep if you must, but do it quietly. She is gone."

 

There was no need to intervene. They both were too stunned to act. Mythal simply stood up, and Abelas hurried to open the front door for her.  
"I will send someone to tell you will be delayed.", Mythal said kindly.  
Abelas had barely time to nod, when the argument began inside the house.

 

\---Almost an hour later---

 

"How is possible that you can't tell your own daughter from a desire spirit?", Fen'Harel shouted.  
"Whose idea was to let a demon befriend to befriend Siona in first place?", Ellana screamed right back at him. "Maybe she learned it the Fade!"  
"Lisel is not the problem here. It's Elgar'nan and his lunatic sentinels!"  
"You can't fling the blame like that before we know what has happened. Maybe they have taken Siona somewhere safe. Somewhere through the eluvians."  
"Do you think I haven't locked all ways into parallel worlds? She is not here, or anywhere in the Fade. This is just another one of Elgar'nan's plots."  
"That is not what Mythal said. She said they are trying to save Elgar'nan. I believe it was that demon who made them do it."  
"It's not a demon, it's a spirit!"  
"Oh, shut up about your spirits and demons! Our daughter has gone missing. This is not the time to argue semantics."

 

Abelas groaned. Normal people would have cried and sought comfort from each other. That what he and Melana had done when their sons had died in service of Mythal. These two had to start a vicious fight. This was not what he wanted to hear. Not now. Not _again_. Why it was always something? He pinched himself, entertaining a futile hope that it was just a dream and soon he would wake up. Of course, that didn't happen.  
The voices drowned out a bit when he went to bathroom to wash his face. He braided his hair like always to fit it under the hood of his armor and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Creators, he looked old. And tired.  
Considering the image, Abelas sighed and took a knife from shelf. It wasn't strictly necessary to shave the sides of his head yet to keep it neat, but he didn't feel ready to walk down the stairs and start once again tangling the mess between his daughter and Dread Wolf. The news about Siona were not easy. Being left behind and not knowing was never easy. But for Abelas, it was merely old and familiar pain, a constant companion from last thousand years.  
When he couldn't think of anything more he could do to postpone the inevitable, Abelas drew a deep breath, praying for patience, and returned to kitchen. The argument had gotten much dirtier.

 

"If she wants to save Elgar'nan, I will go after them and help her to save Elgar'nan."  
"You don't even know where to go!"  
"If you think that I'll leave my baby at the mercy of shemlen, you know nothing about me.", Ellana was furious. "Good people don't just give up on people they love. No matter the cost."  
"So you are saying it's better to be good than alive?"  
"Yes!"  
"You are such a child."  
"Don't dare to be condescending on me! I've put up with your talk about duty for years and years, but I've yet to see you actually do much for the People.", Ellana hissed. "Where are your great reformations, Solas? Those dreams of equality? You claim to hold great love for People, but you just stood there when I was declared unfit to speak in my own trial because I'm not centuries old! You have had ten years to change that one little detail. Not a single one of elves we brought here can ask for justice, and they are the ones who we fought to save. You talk much, but you haven't done _anything_."  
"What you ask is unfortunate, but the limit is that for a reason. Those who--"  
"Don't say it. Me and my Dalish saved your whole fucking city from shemlen! They died for you, and still you dare to think they are less because they are not _your people_. You claim to be different, but inside, you are just as bigoted and arrogant as the rest of your kin!"  
Fen'Harel was truly angry now.  
"And have you given thought why the humans came when they did? Because of you. Because of your little plot with Elgar'nan. I was not only one you betrayed. Mythal brought the Tevinters to forest to get you killed. She knew you! Anyone who knows you could have bet you would be first to volunteer for noble sacrifice. You did it in Haven with Corypheus, and then again when Mythal wanted to take over your body. Whole fiasco with Magrallen and all those Dalish deaths, _the Elven Heresy Resolution which killed thousands of your people_ happened because you fucked her husband and told everyone he was the father of your baby!"  
Ellana's face turned deathly white. Fen'Harel, ever wanting to have the last word, moved on the killing blow. He asked the question he had wanted to ask ever since he found out about Siona.  
"If you say that good people don't give up on people they love, why did you give up on me before you even let me try? What does it make you, vhenan?"

 

"Shut up. Both of you.", Abelas commanded.  
He walked to kitchen table, took one of the chairs and placed it between Fen'Harel and Ellana. On the exact spot in the middle. Then he sat down on the chair.  
"Now you may continue shouting for ten minutes. If you haven't finished your argument during that time, you both will either leave my house or agree to solve the issue under my lead.", he stated, crossed his arms over his chest and tuned the noise out.  
He sank deep into his thoughts, ignoring the argument going on over his head, and purposefully focused on thinking whether he should offer Kallian a big corner room near the kitchen and library on first floor, or the two smaller rooms on second floor facing the street. He knew he was going to be late, and a part of him worried what she would think of that, but it couldn't be helped. If Elgar'nan was so ill as the two suggested, last thing Arlathan needed was a Creator murdering another again.

He had no idea of how long time had passed, but the sudden silence alerted him. Ellana and Fen'Harel had apparently ran out of things to say, or they were catching their breaths.  
"Ellana. Which one?", he asked.  
"Are you actually serious that--"  
"Which one?", Abelas snapped.  
"All right.", she said, hurt because he wasn't taking her side. "Your method."  
"And Fen'Harel?"  
"I'm willing to do that if she is.", Dread Wolf said unhappily.

 

"Right.", Abelas said, massaging his temples. "First thing. Neither of you can leave on fool's chase after Siona and sentinels."  
"How can you say that! She is a baby!", Ellana started.  
"Just listen. Mythal already told you why. I will add what I know, and I know Senris. He was leader of Elgar'nan's sentinels when I was still a boy in this house, and I've worked with him for years. He is good at what he does. If Senris left Elgar'nan behind, it tells me two things. One. Elgar'nan's situation is indeed very grave. Two. Senris must know a way to save his lord. They must have something stashed somewhere, and he's gone to get it. Mythal didn't survive her murder by sheer luck. I'm not going to tell you how she did it, but my predecessor had a role in it. If you try to follow Elgar'nan's sentinels, you risk dooming the whole expedition. A group of ordinary elvhen could slip past Andruil and Forgotten Ones unnoticed. But not you. And even if you did, the sentinels will fight you to keep Elgar'nan's secret. You would only end up endangering Siona further."  
"I don't care.", Ellana said, standing up. "I'm going."  
"You are not going anywhere, and you will not tell anyone that Siona is gone. ", Abelas was starting to get angry. "Ever since you came back, Ellana, you have made a mess of that child's life. She is not some price to be claimed. You two destroyed her home in your anger, went to court for her, and even now you are willing to risk us all just to be there even though she doesn't need you. It isn't a competition, girl."  
"So you are saying that we should just let it be?", Fen'Harel snarled. "Have you any idea of what the cost to Siona might be? Neither of you saw the lengths Elgar'nan was willing to go during the rebellion and war against Forgotten Ones."  
"We can't always protect ones we love. Least of all from themselves.", Abelas said, standing up.  
"The whole problem here.", Fen'Harel said slowly. "Is you, Abelas, and the way you raise your family. You feel it's perfectly reasonable for a little girl to leave for fool's quest with sentinels because that's what this family does. You serve. Until you choke on it, and even then you draw a breath and just go on. You said ten years ago that you have had it with Mythal, even made me remove your vallaslin but there you are, doing her bidding."

Abelas was losing his patience.

"I don't have energy for this. What's the use? No matter what I say, you will do what you want, like you always have done. You are not first couple to lose a child. I've lost three. I can't even begin to count how many we buried during our long watch at Vir'Abelasan, and this city is full of people with similar stories. You don't have sole right on sorrow, either. Mythal has a dying husband and two children who are more or less mad. She is running herself to ground trying to care for everyone. June is trying to rebuild the city. My friend Cyrion lost his livelihood in attack, and now he is homeless. Zevran died. Mahariel died. And if this useless discussion goes on much longer, the Keeper in infirmary will probably slip poison into Kallian's breakfast to do a mercy killing. I need to be there, not here, listening at you two. Apologize. Kiss. Make up. Kill each other. Whatever. I no longer care."  
"What did you say about Kallian?", Ellana asked.  
"She got paralyzed.", Abelas replied.  
"I'm so sorry, father. I know you cared about her."  
"She is not dead yet.", Abelas said sharply. "But you two could spare some thought to others like her. The People you both love to speak so much about. You are not only ones with ability to suffer, but you could make it stop for them. Just think of somebody else for a minute. If you know how."

Now they both were glaring at him. Abelas didn't care. He was past caring. Fed up with this. He took his new book and walked out from the front door, slamming it shut so hard that the windows rattled. It felt strangely satisfying.

 --

 

"We are still going?", Ellana looked at Fen'Harel.  
"Of course we are.", Fen'Harel said, and the firmness in his voice made the hurts they had inflicted on each other lessen a bit.  
"He was right about Mythal, though.", Ellana noted. "We shouldn't leave her with those two."  
"I still don't have any mana. June didn't lie when he said he drained it all.", Fen'Harel admitted.  
"You must stay with Mythal, and I go down and look for Siona.", Ellana said.  
"He wants to come with you, but he doesn't know how to say it after everything else he said.", a familiar voice said.  
"Cole?", Ellana blinked.  
"We want to help.", the spirit of Compassion manifested in the corner. He was holding a small girl firmly by ear.  
"No! We just want!", the little desire demon stomped it's foot.  
"She is sorry about everything, and she doesn't know if she can ever make it right. She never meant to betray you.", Cole said to Fen'Harel. "I brought the little Want, because she helps, too."  
"I don't help! I just give people what they want. If I get what I want, too!", Lisel resisted loudly.  
"Want gave them a map, because she got a doll house. And Loyalty was hurting so Want made her laugh, and the sound eased his heart a bit.", Cole said fondly, patting desire demon's head. "We can help you to look."  
"I can show you which map they took, if you buy me a doll and let me come, too.", Lisel added. "But it must be even prettier than Lady Lindrinae."  
"It's a deal.", Fen'Harel replied before Lisel had time to ask for more.

 

\--

She was still there. Not dead.  
"What's wrong, Abelas?", Kallian asked the moment he stepped through the door. He didn't have his armor on, but plain tunic with trousers. Looked something like house clothes.  
Unable to answer, he just shook his head.  
Kallian knew that look. She had seen it often enough in Tevinter. Something bad had happened.  
"Come here.", she decided and pushed herself on the side of bed to make room. "You need a hug."  
She was a bit startled when he immediately did what he was told, but maybe it was the sentinel training. Following orders and everything.  
She pulled him close, slipping her arm under his to stroke his back. Abelas' skin was warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. It felt wonderful, and Kallian banished the thought. She was not going to go there now or ever. Last thing he deserved was to be assaulted on by crippled woman.  
Kallian had never been one to ask what happened. She had never wanted to tell, when she had been the one hurting. Some things could not be told, and those who wanted to speak about things, usually did so without voiced demand. So she just was there. Who held whom, she could not tell, because he had thrown his leg over hers, hooking it to make sure they wouldn't fall down from the narrow bed. She could feel the weight of him to halfway of her upper thighs, and then no sensation at all.

A long time passed in silence. Gradually, she felt Abelas relaxing. Kallian could not see his face, because it was hidden against the curve of her neck, but it was a good thing. She was getting distracted as it was. He smelled very nice. Some kind of scented soap perhaps? Kallian _was_ genuinely concerned for him, but there was a part which shamelessly reveled for the chance to feel his shoulders and the little stray hairs on the nape of his neck. She secretly thought they were adorable.  
"Feeling better?", she asked tentatively.  
"Yes.", Abelas muttered against her skin. "But making sick people sleep on mattress like this is crime. It's lumpier than Paragon's arse."  
Kallian snickered.  
"In case you haven't noticed, Abelas, this is infirmary, not a place to coddle people. It says so on the wall. Rule number five. Whining does not help you heal. You have broken at least three house rules out of ten. The dark-skinned Dalish assistant put them up earlier today."  
Abelas turned to look at the wall. Kallian savored the look on his face as he began to read.  
"Rule three. Gardens are meant for promoting health. Do not throw dangerous items out from your window.", Abelas started. "Rule four. No extended visits lasting longer than a single turn of hourglass."  
"And number nine.", Kallian said. "My particular favorite."  
"Holding hands is not acceptable behavior except between parents and children or bonded partners. Wanton displays of affection are not allowed in the building or on surrounding grounds.", Abelas read. "Since when holding hands has been 'a wanton display of affection'?".  
"The Keeper who runs this place is a staunch traditionalist. Marked for Sylaise, so she can keep her ideas about Creators intact.", Kallian remarked.  
She recalled Abelas with a wry smile.  
"I'm just wondering if their goal is to protect productive members of society, like you, from nefarious cripples like me or other way around? Or do they have something against dwarven murder mysteries? Or men in general? Shianni didn't make it on the list at all. She'll be so disappointed."  
Abelas had met Shianni few times, and he had spent many nights listening Cyrion's tales of woe featuring Kallian and her cousin. He knew what Shianni was like. A born troublemaker.  
"How it's possible that I get on the list and she does not?", Abelas asked. It was unfathomable. He had been the very model of restrain, damn it! Even now, when the situation itself was making him wish he hadn't stormed out without his armor. There were benefits to wearing unbending metal. Like not having to wonder how far up she could still feel or should he try to twist his hips into awkward curve to avoid close contact.  
Kallian laughed. He had always liked her laugh. It was free and careless and a bit wild.  
"Abelas, I lured you into my bed the moment you walked through that door. Shianni would have told me off, and she's my cousin. You should really reconsider that rental agreement. If you are not careful, I might get delusional, and take up you invitation to visit."  
She fluttered her lashes to make clear she was just joking because of obvious reasons, but Abelas was not behaving like he should.  
"My room is on third floor in east end of the house.", he informed her. "I'm looking forward to seeing you there."  
"Third floor means at least two set of stairs, Abelas. Are you mad?", Kallian asked, feeling hurt.  
"As you'd ever let something like stairs to keep you from what you wanted.", Abelas replied. "Maybe you just lack sufficient motivation. I will attempt to provide that."  
Kallian was going to tell him that this discussion was taking a very weird turn and maybe he should leave before she got her heart broken, but Abelas was faster. Kallian felt the strangest déjà vu being pinned down by him again, like countless times during her training. Except he always got up promptly and didn't smirk. Or kiss her.

Abelas had either gone mad or he meant what he said. Mad was more likely, but Kallian didn't care. It was not like she was getting another chance to kiss him any time soon, so she pulled Abelas down for another, pushing her free hand under his shirt. One had to be bold to make a life in Alienage, and for crippled ex-sentinel, the minimum requirement of brass for survival was doubled. Shianni always said one should grab the bull by the horns.

 

Shianni had never said what to do when one was caught in compromising situation by two healer apprentices coming to serve the lunch.

\--

 

Shianni ran. The messenger from infirmary had said that she had to come at once, and Shianni was certain it meant the worst possible news. She swallowed her tears as she pushed past the crowd gathered in the street facing the House of Healing.

To her shock, she saw her cousin being carried between two Dalish men who had Sylaise's markings. Kallian was laughing so hard that tears were running over her face. The men put her down on the edge of the fountain, and a healer apprentice threw a sack at her feet.  
"Neither of you is ever welcome again in the House of Healing!", the Keeper standing at the door shouted, her face red.  
"We wouldn't care to.", Kallian's former boss, what-his-name-was, snapped, glaring at the Keeper.  
Kallian just laughed, and she would have fell into fountain if Shianni hadn't interrupted her fun.  
"Cousin! By fire and death, what have you done now?", Shianni demanded.  
"I just got kicked out from the hospital.", Kallian explained, wiping tears on her sleeve. "For.. What did they call it, Abelas?"  
"Blatant discard of infirmary rules.", he supplied, sitting down next to her. "I can't believe it."  
"Did you see the look on Keeper's face when they told her?", Kallian giggled. "I thought her head was going to explode. Mythal would be so proud."  
The corners of Abelas' mouth twitched, and he started to laugh too.  
"I don't get which part of being homeless and crippled on the street you two find so humorous.", Shianni retorted. "What are you going to _do_ , cousin?"  
"I haven't given it much thought yet.", Kallian admitted. "Sit here and consider my options."  
She pulled her sack closer and peered inside.  
"They put your book in here, too. Good. I don't think they'd let you go back in to fetch it."  
"They wouldn't. We both are banished for life.", Abelas remarked, sounding smug.  
"Focus, cousin!", Shianni ordered. "Stop being so damned happy and _think_!"  
"My offer is still open.", Abelas mentioned casually. "June promised to send his people around in the afternoon, so if you accept, they could explain you how the enchantment works."  
Kallian sighed.  
"All right. I'll sign it once I figure out how to get to your house."  
"It won't be a problem.", Abelas said, scooping her up. "Shianni. You can carry her things."


	36. New paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..Where Lisel learns where babies come from. She is not impressed.  
> ..Fen'Harel and Ellana find a new purpose  
> ..while Abelas finds a new name  
> ..and writes his first contract ever with only 5+1 clauses  
> ..Dirthamen and Falon'Din are good boys and work as their mother's hired muscle  
> ..and Mythal gets the last laugh when everyone gets what they deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place approx 6 - 9 months after Andruil's attack and Siona's disappearance. The general progress is stated within text.
> 
> Eliel's joke about "Lady of joyful relief" is a suggestive jab about meaning of Enasal. It means victory after loss, a variation of joyful relief.

**\- six months later in Korcari Wilds-**

"I told you not to go outside!", Elandrin yelled. He wanted to cry for sheer frustration. Velanna had escaped again, when he had been trying to teach himself to read, and fell into swamp. Now she was all slimy and dirty. There was frogspawn in her hair, which meant Elandrin would have to spend half of the day trying to heat water to bathe and do laundry.  
Velanna started to cry, too, but Elandrin had enough. He took a string of twine and tied one end around a pillar beneath the hut, another around Velanna's ankle.  
"I know you don't like this, but you can't drown in the swamp or wander around! You will be eaten!", Elandrin snapped. "Now, stay put!"

Velanna was still wailing when Elandrin started to drag a big cauldron outside. He had found it from the cellar. The hut was odd place; sometimes when the moon was big and cold on the sky, the hut changed. New doors appeared and there were rooms which usually weren't there at all. It was creepy and probably work of demons, but Elandrin had found many useful things from the other rooms. Children's spelling-book, a mage staff, and seventeen templar helmets. One had a shriveled head inside, and Elandrin had put it into dustpan and thrown into swamp. He had filled the helmets with dirt and planted apple seeds inside. It was a bit like a garden, making the hut look nicer. They had been living here for two seasons, now, and Elandrin had started to think the hut as their home.

He had just finished filling the cauldron from a flask of water which never ran empty, and washed their dirty clothes inside it. Velanna was sitting naked on the ground and weeping.  
"Ela.", she cried when he knelt down to let her free. The knot had been too tight; her skin was white under it. Elandrin felt awful; he didn't know how to take care for a baby alone. But it was dangerous outside, and Velanna didn't understand speech.  
"Now you bathe.", he ordered. They climbed on a stool holding hands, and then stepped into cauldron. It was big enough for two of them, and Velanna couldn't wash her hair or anything by herself, really. Mamae had told Elandrin that babies couldn't bathe alone, because they could drown.

Eventually they were finished, and Velanna sat on the ground cooing to her doll while Elandrin was pulling the spare shirt over his head. It was too big, reaching his ankles but it was at least clean. When he emerged from the black fabric, he saw a group of elves coming to yard. His eyes widened in shock. A man, woman, and two... things. They looked like a young man and a small girl, except you could kind of see through them.  
"Oh, Maker, have a mercy on us.", he said, because that was what you should say not when you saw wrong things. He took his sword from the ground. He didn't want them to steal it, it was his.  
"It's there!", the little girl pointed at Velanna. "That one has stolen lady Lindrinae!"  
"She did not!", Elandrin cried out in her defense. "My sister hasn't stolen anything! We are no thieves!"  
"He thinks it's unfair. It was gift from a king who wasn't king, but a servant of another. Fear, fleeing, fleeting, fighting...", the blond boy with a big hat muttered. Elandrin ignored him. It was clear that one's head wasn't quite right.  
"My name is Solas.", the man introduced himself. "This is Ellana. We are looking for a girl around your age. Blond hair, blue eyes. Her name is Siona, and I think you might know something about her."  
His voice was kind, but Elandrin knew the templars were kind, too, as long as you did what they wanted.  
"If you don't hurt us, I will take you to her. She's not far.", he offered.  
He missed the look of terrible hope on elves' faces. Eagerly, Elandrin led them behind the hut and pointed at the spot on the ground. There was a tiny sapling of an apple tree.  
"She is there. I buried her in spring, just like I promised to tattooed man, and I haven't let Velanna pick the leaves off her tree."  
"Whom did you bury?", Solas' voice was barely a whisper.  
"Lady Siona, daughter of Elgarran.", Elandrin stumbled at difficult word. "She didn't get Blight sickness. He told me that she sacrificed herself willingly. When I went inside, she was all burned up in circle of blood. I scrubbed the floor clean, gathered her ashes, and planted a tree for her."  
"Did I do the right thing? Why they don't say anything?", the big hat whispered. "Are they angry?"

 

At first, Ellana had been filled with hope. They had started from Amaranthine, moving methodically southward, because Solas' patient questioning of Lisel had led them to believe that the map she had stolen for sentinels had been of Ferelden. Village by village, down to even smallest hamlet, they searched.  
It had not taken long to see how bad things were on Thedas. The elves whom they had saved were a mere fraction of whole population, and although it could be argued that all had been called and these had not chosen to answer, neither Ellana or Solas could stand aside first time when they saw a new mother trying to drown her baby in a bath because she was a girl. Ellana had saved the baby, promising the teary mother that there was life to be had elsewhere, and Cole had taken them to Arlathan through eluvians.

It was not a good thing to have a daughter in Thedas. If the baby was a boy, they could get by. Imperial Chantry didn't buy male slaves, and only thing the elves with young son had to worry about were templars. The Chantry could not hunt down all elves, neither were the Circles of Magi large enough to house them all, so Divine Victoria had decreed that each elf should register at nearest Chantry. The alienages were different now, dangerous places filled with untrained mages, sickness and filth. The elves were no longer allowed to leave alienages, and the men keeping them inside were not city guards, but templars provided by Chantry. They kept the dangers of magic away, and theoretically angry shemlen and slavers outside, but in Solas' experience, the templars failed all too often in their second mission.

Closing all elves inside alienages was not a good arrangement, because it too often ended in purges. When one of the new mages finally cracked, turning to blood magic or demon worship, whole alienage had to be annulled like a Circle of old. There were escape attempts, too, when female population of alienage started mysteriously go missing. Ellana and Solas had seen villages where men outnumbered women 4:1.

When Solas' magic had returned two months ago, the smuggling of elves to Arlathan had grown from a trickle to river. It was much quicker to work with two of them. Lisel could be persuaded to tell what they really wanted, and after Ellana or Solas checked there were no alarming ties to Andruil or Chantry in applicant's dreams, Cole took them through eluvian. During the six months, they had saved almost three hundred elves, slipping from one alienage in Ferelden to next.

But one they wanted to find was no longer here.

 

They sat side by side on a bench in front of Mythal's old hut. Lisel and Cole were inside, helping the little boy and his sister to pack up.  
"I thought I would cry.", Ellana remarked slowly. "But I don't think I have any tears left. I think I always knew it would end like this. After you got your mana back, months passed, and there was still no sign of her, I knew."  
Solas' eyes were sad.  
"It was always fool's hope.", he admitted. "If I had my magic, if we had found out sooner, if we had known to come straight here instead of starting from other side of the country."  
"But at least we know, now.", Ellana said, reaching for his hand.  
"I hope they succeed at saving Elgar'nan. Because when he finds out the cost, he will kill Senris and the rest of them, and I will stand there and cheer him on.", Solas said bitterly.  
"We will both be there.", Ellana replied, her eyes hard. But anger wasn't enough to hold her heart, and she buried her face against Solas' shoulder and wept for her lost baby.

 

Lisel was standing at the window inside hut. It was always hard when people wanted so many different things. These two had wanted Siona back, and like all strong feelings, it called to her. She had seen many interesting things during their travels, seen a lot of different wants. But she was not going to give Ellana or Solas more, because there was one want which shone still brighter. It was her own. Lisel had found the pup from the Fade, and taken a form similar to hers, because she wanted Siona to like her. She wanted to have her trust and admiration, and her doll house, and her advice to make Lisel much better desire demon. Learning to read had already proven to be so useful! Siona had all the best ideas.

So she had kept her mouth shut about what had happened in Elgar'nan's holy pool. Compassion said that people didn't like to hear their secrets said out loud, and Lisel had the best secret of them all. The children of People didn't come from eggs. Ellana and Fen'Harel simply stole babies from other people, who had made them by grunting and sticking their sweaty naked parts together.  
Lisel couldn't wait to tell Siona when she came back. She would be so appalled. It was disgusting, truly, and stealing babies was much cleaner than making them. No wonder Elgar'nan had stolen Siona when she was a baby. He didn't seem like a man who wanted get sweaty. It wasn't stylish.

Lisel considered the pair behind window. They had mostly stopped crying, now, and were kissing instead. Fen'Harel had no shirt on, and he was sliding Ellana's blouse down from her shoulders. Of course. They were going to make new pups to make up for the stolen one. Some people were just so greedy. Fen'Harel had taught Lisel to count, and she had counted that they had sent 78 babies of different ages back to Arlathan without their parents. These two would make it 80. Why they insisted doing the nasty, sweaty thing if they had already so many pups?

Lisel decided to ask Fen'Harel as soon as they were finished. Desires of people were just baffling sometimes.

\----

**Arlathan, seven months after the attack**

"It's done.", June's voice came through the fog of pain filling Kallian's mind. "How do you feel?"  
She blinked her eyes. Her gaze wandered on the ceiling, focusing on bright light.  
 "What is your name? Do you remember your name? Your age? Names of your parents?"  
"It's Kallian. Kallian Tabris.", she whispered. Her voice was coarse from screaming. "I was born in Denerim thirty-nine years ago, to Adaia and Cyrion Tabris."  
"The initial results seem splendid.", June told to his priests. "42% of subject's body has been infused with lyrium tattoos, but so far, she retains her sense of self."  
There were lots of scribbling. The priests were taking notes.  
"Kallian. Do you remember why you agreed to this test?", June asked. She could see him now, his round and friendly face covered with beard.  
"Because I wanted to walk the stairs to Abelas' room. Not to crawl or swing myself like a monkey. I didn't want to be less. He was mad at me for doing this. But I make my own choices.", she said.  
She sat down, looking at her legs. They were strange. Really strange. Like that slave one of the magisters had made. There were veins of lyrium inside her skin, obscurely beautiful forms reaching up to her hips.  
"Now try to stand up.", June urged. The dwarf was almost beside himself. Nobody had ever managed to infuse a person with lyrium and still keep their mind intact. The pain was bad enough to wipe everything. But Kallian was no stranger to pain.  
Tentatively, Kallian tried to move her legs. She startled, when they actually moved. She just stared at her limbs like she'd seen a snake.  
"Go on!", June urged again.  
Gritting her teeth, Kallian tried again. When she moved her legs down from the operating table and put them down on the floor, she was convinced she would fall on her face in front of everyone. But they held. They held.  
She spurted into run, giggling madly, and slammed herself against June, kissing the dwarf's bearded face.  
"I love you, God of Craft! I love you!"  
"You are little bit tall for me, dear.", June said. "And Andruil would take offense. But you could name your firstborn after me. I've always thought it's a nice gesture."  
"I don't have children."  
"Maybe you should go and have some, then. Just write down all the details on how legs work, come back for further testing in three days, and I'm happy."

 

Kallian stood on the bottom of stairs. The enchantments of Abelas' house recognized her, forming railings for her to support herself. Six months ago, when she moved in, she had been grateful to have that much. She almost had not minded the fact that it limited her life inside four walls.  
She had been on this very spot so many times. She took the first step on stairs, and heard the old wood creak under her weight. That was new. Kallian smiled. Her body ached, and she couldn't remember anything from last two months she had spent in June's temple. But she stepped on second stair, and then third, and although she rested her hands on the railings, it was just a habit, now.

Kallian reached the second floor. She had gotten this far twice before. From this spot, she could see the glow of light coming behind his door, always left slightly ajar. The lyrium smarted under her skin, like a new wound, but she took yet another step.

Each set of stairs had ten steps. The night before she had left to June's temple she had climbed eighteen of them. It had not been pretty, and with all the noise she made, she knew he had been waiting. But on nineteenth step, Kallian could no longer go on. Physically, yes, but her spirit had failed her. She had thought of Abelas, beautiful and stern yet laughing Abelas, and she could not summon the strength to cross the last stair or four steps to his door. Because he would still be beautiful and serious and love her all the same. Whether she was crippled or not. Kallian knew it, and that had been the very thought which had turned her away.

She was not pretty or young. Her nose had been broken by Vaughan's goons and never healed right. She had been flogged too many times to sport a flimsy gown with wide neckline and no sleeves. But she had made something of herself, despite all odds and lack of immortality or formal training. She had been Mythal's chosen weapon, sharp and just, and weapons were pretty on their own right. They didn't need flimsy gowns. But she loved him, and she could not bear the thought of him seeing what she really was like, now. The legs of hers had been nothing but lumps of dead flesh, and she couldn't stomach him loving her despite them, because it was not what she wanted to be. She wanted to be what she was. She wanted to be beautiful in her own eyes, because it was only way she could believe herself beautiful in his.

Kallian climbed the rest of the steps and crossed the short distance to knock on the door.

 

"Come in.", Abelas said. He was sitting by his desk, writing something. He turned around, watching Kallian with resigned amusement mixed with a fair bit of disapproval.  
"I must say I misjudged you.", he finally said. "This was not what I had in mind when I told the stairs wouldn't stop you if you wanted to come."  
"I know.", she grinned, leaning against the door frame. She had walked the whole way from June's temple, and the smarting of still tender cuts in her skin was getting more painful.  
"And you would have been just as welcome two months ago.", he continued. "There was no need to go through prolonged torture and risk losing yourself."  
"I know that, too.", she said. "But I wasn't ready, then."  
"What I'm going to do with you, Kallian?", he asked, shaking his head.  
"You can't say that.", she said, feigning dismay. "This is _outrageous_. You've lured me with your invitations for months! I had to fight a Creator, fall off a dragon, get crippled and then get better. I just spent two months as June's test subject to walk here! And then you tell you haven't thought of anything. You just asked me to stop by."  
She crossed the floor, and the burning on her legs got worse. She almost crashed down, but Abelas caught her on time. She ended up sitting on his lap, straddling him.  
"I didn't say that.", Abelas said. "I have thought plenty of things."  
He opened the first drawer and pulled out a nicely written contract. All his contracts were neat and impeccable, but this particular one was special. The single sheet of parchment was bound in halla leather covers.  
"A single sheet?", Kallian asked with warm amusement. "How optimistic of you, Abelas."  
He hummed like a pleased cat.  
"Some people do just fine with a single page, while others struggle with 32.", he said. "Read it."  
Although Kallian could read ancient elvish passably well, the title of contract made her sure she must have had misunderstood something. The listing of parties or the actual clauses didn't make any sense, either, but the date was oddest of them all. It was initially dated on the day of her accident.  
Abelas was letting her take her time to read, while he was busy opening the buttons of her shirt.  
"It's just a draft, still.", Abelas said, trailing kisses down from her collarbone. "You are welcome to suggest any additions you'd like. I'm willing to negotiate the details with you."  
"I'm shocked.", Kallian said weakly. "I was somewhat prepared for few kisses. Maybe sex. But not a marriage contract, for Void's sake."  
"Sign and we can move on your expectations.", he offered pleasantly.  
"Isn't that blackmailing?"  
"Yes.", Abelas said. He undid her breast band, kissing her breasts.  
"Are you actually serious?"  
"I'm always serious.", he told her and threw her shirt on the floor. "You shouldn't be so surprised. You told me you've been married before."  
"For two frigging minutes!"  
"Our bonding ceremony will be much nicer one. No uninvited guests.", Abelas promised. "And if you look at the clauses, they are very reasonable."  
She had to admit that.  
"Even your father likes them."  
"You have shown this to my father?", she cried out.  
"Naturally. It wouldn't do to seduce the only daughter of my good friend without assuring him of my intentions.", he remarked. "Why do you think your father didn't protest you moving into my house? He has been making test brews for the wedding since midsummer. If you hold out your answer much longer, the regulars are going to have a riot. They all vote for the fourth version."  
"Abelas."  
"Yes?"  
"Has anyone ever told you that your courting reminds how one wages war? You surround your enemy from all fronts, cut their escape routes, and leave them with no other options but surrender."  
He looked taken aback.  
"I hadn't thought it so. I--"  
"Shh.", Kallian said. "Give me a pen."  
She wrote a clause number 6 and signed her name with flourish on dotted line before handing the contract to Abelas.  
"You want to name our firstborn after June?", he asked.  
"I already promised.", she shrugged.  
"Very well.", Abelas replied, signed the contract, and put it back in the drawer. "Now that formalities have been seen to, I'd very much like to see those legs of yours. And the rest of you."  
Abelas stood up, holding her up as she twisted her legs around his waist, and kissed Kallian as he walked them across the floor to his bed. Kallian grinned and pulled off his shirt, throwing it over the desk. He shook his head mockingly, muttering something about impatience of young women, and lost his trousers a moment later.

Kallian left a candle burning, to better see Mythal's gifts.

 

Much, later when the candle had been burnt to end, a man's voice remarked.  
"I didn't know your legs would glow in the dark."  
"Does it bother you?"  
"I will endure."  
"How noble of you, Abelas."  
"It's not noble. I think it's very practical. Now I always know where you are."  
"What a joy.", she smirked.  
"Indeed.", he agreed. "And have you noticed? The pattern lights up when I run my hand up here, like this."  
"I see.", her answer was a bit breathless.  
"Or like this.", he continued, words followed with another flash of soft blue light. "It's very interesting, and leads to an important question. If one continued in same manner, what kind of afterglow there would be?"  
"I'm not writing this down for June.", Kallian sighed. "Come here, Abelas. I will distract you."

 

\-- **Nine months after the attack** \--

Ellana was weary. She wanted nothing more than go home and lay her head down on her own bed, have a good cry, and heap the whole misery of last nine months on his father's strong shoulders.  
"I want my doll.", Lisel said for nth time that evening. "You promised you would buy me a doll which is prettier than lady Lindrinae, Fen'Harel, and I want it now."  
"Little Want is worried that the shop which sells the best dolls might be closed if you don't walk faster.", Cole added helpfully.  
"I _am_ opening the eluvian, but you keep interrupting me. They have added an identification spell of some sorts.", Fen'Harel snapped.  
The feelings in their little group were irritated, like it often is after a long journey, and Elandrin looked a bit frightened as he held Velanna's hand.  
"Don't be so worried, little one.", Ellana said, stroking boy's hair. "You'll be happy in Arlathan. There are many children to play with, and no templars or darkspawn."  
"Finally.", Fen'Harel huffed. "I don't know what's wrong with this thing."  
"I will go with the children first.", Cole said and took the little ones. "Come, little Want. We will take little ones to their home and then I help you."  
"Someone should.", Lisel said, sounding cross, and they stepped through eluvian.

 

"Right on time.", a silky voice notified them as Fen'Harel and Ellana stepped through eluvian.  
"You two do have a habit of ruining others' fun, don't you?", another, very similar voice remarked.  
The chamber with eluvian was lit with veilfire torches, and Fiona stood on the doorway with her soldiers, Melana, and two Creators. Falon'Din and Dirthamen wore almost identical outfits of black leather and entirely useless buckles. Fanim and Harel, Dirthamen's two servants, were accompanying them like always. The children or spirits were nowhere in sight.  
"Dirthamen. Falon'Din.", Fen'Harel greeted them politely. "It's been a while."  
"We are not interested in chatting.", Falon'Din said. "We are here merely to do Mythal's bidding."  
"You could consider us hired muscle.", Dirthamen added.  
"The other members of your party are welcome to Arlathan, but All-Mother regrets that you two cannot enter the city before midnight. You will be provided accommodations where to wait for few hours, and the young lords are here to assist me and the soldiers if you do not cooperate.", Melana announced, her expression neutral.  
"So how it is, Fen'Harel? You wait or we get to trash you, with permission?", Falon'Din asked lazily, whirling a pair of handcuffs around his index finger.  
"And what happens after midnight?", Ellana asked.  
"You will be free to go.", Melana said simply.  
"All right.", Ellana sighed, offering her wrists. They had left against Mythal's direct order, and All-Mother couldn't just overlook it. She hoped that if she played along, they would be let off easily.  
"What's wrong with Mythal?", Fen'Harel asked between his teeth as Falon'Din put handcuffs on him. He could feel them sucking away his magic, and he didn't like this.  
"You should ask what's wrong with you, instead.", Dirthamen said, giving them a lovely smile. "Everyone else is having a party, and you two go to prison."

 

Ellana was dozing on the bunk of their shared cell, when Fen'Harel, who had been pacing the length of floor for some time, cried out:  
"That's my griffon!"  
"What?", Ellana sat up.  
"That's my griffon!", Fen'Harel pointed at the sky. "The one I stole for our wedding!"  
"How do you know?", Ellana asked and came to stand next to him. There was a griffon circling on the sky, rising higher and higher, until it finally disappeared through the barriers of city.  
"Believe me, I know. I spent hours staring at it after you died, regretting that I never went through with the bond.", Fen'Harel said. "And now it's just gone."  
"I've always wondered what was the deal with the griffon."  
"It's metaphorical. One can't hold a griffon against it's will. But it will return, if it wants.", Fen'Harel stated. His lips curved into a smile. "Some people say that priest class used griffons in their wedding because they and temple-bred elvhen women are frighteningly alike. To griffons, relationship means grooming."  
"That's most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.", Ellana sniffed.  
"Of course you would say it. Temple-bred you are.", Fen'Harel snickered.  
"It's not wise to bait someone who's sharing a cell with you, Solas.", she pointed out. "But it's good that someone finally used that griffon and got bonded. Do you think it's priest class wedding? Hundred different flowers and whole show?"  
"Certainly.", Fen'Harel said. "No one else would need a griffon."  
"What else it entails?"  
"If family is very religious, a service in Mythal's temple, and the partners exchange gifts. Prayers for both Mythal and Elgar'nan, asking blessings and patience to be good parents for any children the couple might have. I've always thought it's ridiculous to ask Elgar'nan for patience, but that's the priests for you. From sunset to midnight, a feast with friends and family with lots of food and dancing, and love. It's considered lucky to have sex in someone else's wedding, because all guests are under blessing of Mythal.", Fen'Harel smiled crookedly. "It's a fine opportunity for people looking for company. And then, at midnight, there is a procession in the moonlight. Women carry the groom, men carry the bride. Lots of lewd jokes. Sometimes there are criers, who announce how couple met each other, or any embarrassing stories they might have. Newlyweds are escorted to their home with lots of helpful advice for wedding night. It would make your ears burn off."  
"This raises one question I don't like.", Ellana said, crossing her arms over her chest. "If we are to be let out at midnight, who is getting married without us?"  
Fen'Harel looked at her.  
"I know someone who had a key to griffon's stall. And who said that he has a life of his own which does not include you, me or Mythal."  
Ellana's eyes narrowed.  
"Not funny, Solas."  
"I'm just saying that there aren't that many members of priest class among the ancients who still uphold the old ways of doing things, and it would have to be one of Mythal's considering the company which met us."  
"I don't care what you say. Abelas would never do something so ill-considered. We have been away less than an year, by Void's sake. He was always the one warning me about jumping into relationship with you."  
"Yes, but men might have different rules for themselves than their daughters. Think of Elgar'nan, for example. He's the one of most wanton men I know, but Siona believed babies came from color-coded eggs.", Fen'Harel pointed out. They had only recently reached a state where her name could be mentioned in conversation without darkening the mood.  
"My father would not do something like that. That phase of his life is surely over."  
"I'm older than your father.", Fen'Harel remarked.  
"We are going to change the subject now, Solas.", Ellana said firmly. "What are you planning to do now that we are back?"  
"I believe we have to do more for the elves living below, on Thedas. There were too many darkspawn in Korcari Wilds for a Blight twenty years past, and it worries me. We should look into that. And one question keeps coming back at me: why would Cassandra allow all these things to happen? She was an admirable, honest woman who would not allow atrocities committed in her name."  
"Maybe she is no longer the woman you remember.", Ellana said bitterly.  
"Yes, but if she is not, what changed her?"

 --

 Melana smelled of mead when she came to let them out at midnight.  
"Mythal would have come personally, but she's a bit too tipsy to be allowed to climb the stairs.", the sentinel said as she opened the cell door. "If you spoil Kallian and Enasal's party, we'll kill you two. So behave."  
With those words, Melana ran down the steps and vanished into garden of Mythal's temple.  
Fen'Harel and Ellana looked at each other.  
"I would like to see who dared to steal my griffon.", Fen'Harel said, offering his arm. "Let's make a quick tour before going home."  
"I don't remember anyone called Enasal from the ranks of sentinels. Must be a city elf."

They descended from the cell, stairs appearing under their feet, when the gates to Mythal's temple were slammed open by a group of hooting men in golden armor.  
"Make way for the lady of joyful relief!", Eliel shouted. He and one of Mythal's older sentinels, Sethis, were carrying a laughing woman on their shoulders. Kallian Tabris had dozens of flowers in her short hair, and blue tattoos decorated her feet, rising up to knees and disappearing under her dress.  
"If you drop my wife, Eliel, I'll make you pay.", a familiar voice threatened. Abelas was being carried by his sisters in Mythal's service, but still managed to look as regal as any king upon his throne, crowned by wreath of flowers.  
"Shut up, Enasal. She's ours, now.", Eliel quipped. "You got her dagger; sleep with that."  
"But he's right to be worried, brothers. If we drop either of them, they can't get in the hospital!", Melana shouted. The crowd exploded in bout of laughter.  
The cackling elves carrying Kallian grinned at each other, and suddenly Eliel threw her high in the air. It was oddly beautiful sight; floating fabric of pale silk and flowers against the dark night sky. She flew upwards, but never came back down. Kallian Tabris stood in the air, lyrium burning inside her skin.  
"I thought it might work like that.", Eliel said with appreciation. "And this is the perfect angle to peer under your dress, dear sister."  
"It's good to know you appreciate my underwear. Got it from Denerim when you sent me and Merrill to purchase non-shabby things for Mythal.", Kallian said dryly. "I can give you the location if you want to buy something virginal for yourself."  
"Good one, cousin! Way to go!"  
Shianni cheered, clapping her hands, and the rest of the women joined her.  
"Please come back down, Kallian.", Cyrion pleaded. "Like your friends said, they won't take you back in hospital if you fall."  
"It's a pity, truly.", Kallian said. "They would even let us hold hands, now."  
Abelas had escaped from the clutches of women, and he pushed Eliel aside, holding out his arms.  
"Let go. I will catch you.", he said.  
Kallian looked down at him.  
"Are you sure?", she asked.  
"I will always catch you.", he promised, his expression softer than Ellana had ever seen.  
"So sickeningly sweet.", Melana sighed. "Do it, sister, before he starts reciting poetry."  
The blue glow died down, and Kallian fell. Abelas caught her securely, and pulled her close for a kiss, earning much cheering from the crowd.  
"It's two blocks, Enasal! Surely even you can wait for two blocks!", Melana yelled.  
Fen'Harel stole a look at Ellana. She was shocked, not understanding the obvious.  
"Father? Abelas?", she asked, taking a step closer to pair.  
Abelas looked at her.  
"It's Enasal, daughter. I have taken a new name. But I have no time for you or the Dread Wolf now. You can come to meet me in few days.", he said, looking at his new wife. "..No, after a week."  
With that, he turned away, and took Kallian's hand. Together, they led the noisy procession around corner and towards his house.

 

"Isn't it lovely?", Mythal asked from Fen'Harel and Ellana as the last members of bridal party disappeared behind the corner. "I can scarcely wait for their babies. They'll be _rascals_."  
"Where are we supposed to go?", Ellana asked, still astounded.  
"Let me show you.", Mythal said, and her smile was not entirely nice.

Fen'Harel's temple was much changed. The unkept yard filled with wolf statues was now characterized by clothes lines strung between every possible nook and corner.  
"You sent me 80 children without parents.", Mythal said firmly. "I have no interest in raising any of them, and they had to live somewhere. Dirthamen had this wonderful idea of putting them all into your temple, Dread Wolf. It is big enough, and they are your responsibility. You two brought them to Arlathan, so you will have to care and provide for them."  
Immediately, some of the rooms inside the temple lit up, and Cole appeared at the main door, holding two babies in his arms and a third one, a toddler, clinging from his trouser leg.  
"It's good that you came, Solas, Ellana.", he said, sounding breathless. "I try to help them all, but there are so many of them, and they want so many different things. The nannies want to be paid, and the little ones want to sleep and be fed and sang to, while older ones want to them to be quiet."

Mythal was extremely pleased with herself as she slipped on the street and pushed the gate shut, leaving Ellana and Fen'Harel to enjoy miserable fate of their own making.


	37. Tombigbee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All fugitives end up in Tombigbee, the secret Chasind city.
> 
> In Varric's opinion, it's a disappointment compared to Kirkwall.
> 
> Lord Enfanim has a identity crisis. It's not easy to be a teenager sentinel pretending to be a boy.

In Varric's opinion, Tombigbee wasn't much a city. It was a more like a meager trading post located to far south from Korcari Wilds, on the edge of Sunless Lands which were covered in permanent frost. The famed Chasind town was just a group of huts built on stilts and marked with feathers and wilders' symbols. Nobody permanently lived there, except the stone-worn statues of their unknown gods. When a Chasind wished to sell his items, he took over a hut and simply settled in. When the stock ran out or he had sold enough, he gathered his wealth and left.  
"You really should get something more practical to wear.", Anders' breath steamed in cold. "I won't heal you if you freeze your nipples on purpose."  
"I just need something to put more hair on my chest.", Varric replied. "Not all of us want to wear feathers and fur like you."  
"I could use a drink.", Anders sighed. "Wasn't the wolverine skull with painted eyeholes a tavern sign? I remember that hut smelled a bit like Hanged Man."  
"Don't insult my home like that.", Varric cried out. "What I wouldn't give for nice, peaceful night with worst cutthroats, Lowtown whores and pickpockets in Kirkwall?"  
"The joys of Grey Wardening. You'll never get home again.", Anders replied dryly and pushed open the hut door.

Despite his words, Varric knew Anders was right. He had given up his Grey Warden armor immediately after their escape from Aeonar prison. Joining had not been his choice in the first place, and he had no intention following a madwoman with two creepy rock things who claimed to have something to do with dwarves.   
After the Veil had broken, Varric and Anders had taken the mages and ran south, until they reached the land where Chantry had no sway. Varric had never felt the call of the wild, but Chasind had great respect for mages, and one by one the former prisoners of Aeonar had left to join the barbarian tribes until there were only Varric and Anders left.

Even though Chasind were considered primitive and barbaric folk by many, Varric had dealt with worse. A few kind words to woman selling them wildwine, and she mentioned that a group of elves had arrived earlier on that day to trade. She boasted having gotten a fine dagger for giving up her whole stock of dried meat, and grinned. She had at least four teeth missing.  
"Oranka said that he got metal gloves for a small barrel of ice salve, fine as the gods themselves must wear. If you want to have a shirt of metal, you should ask them to barter, before Krynn Sharp-Teeth and his lot kill them all and take their wealth."  
Varric looked at the dagger. Chasind weapons were mostly crude things, made from stone and wood and bits of leather. Few of them had flat blades, forged by long-dead shamans and stolen from cooling body of former owner. They lacked the tools to forge, and one look told Varric that this weapon was finer than anything Harritt had made in Skyhold's Undercroft. Old as Andraste herself, he was willing to bet. Maybe passed from mother to daughter in Dalish clan, or found from old ruins somewhere. Or, the most likely option, which was worst of all three; it had belonged to group of ancient elves skulking around the frozen wastes.  
But still, he needed an armor. Varric tried to ignore all Grey Warden things best as he could, but he couldn't deny that he had sensed a worrying number of darkspawn at late. If the elves had something to trade, it would probably be more use than those ragged leather things Chasind wore into battle.  
"Anders.", he called his companion. "We could pay a visit for those elves."

 

The elves had camped little ways from Tombigbee. They had two tents set up, and Varric counted seven of them sitting around fire. There were ten horses, however.  
"Not your average city elves.", Anders muttered under his breath. "And at least two of them are mages. The older one is drilling the younger one in some kind of fire spell. There is no wood."  
Varric didn't hold a high opinion of Blondie's judgement on things, but this time the man was right. Six of the elves wore identical black armor. They had similar tattoos on their faces, arching lines on forehead and from jaw up to cheekbones. The seventh one, sitting in the middle of the group, had much fancier armor and no tattoos. Obviously their boss. A woman was sitting next to him, and explaining something in elvish.  
"Andaran atishan!", Varric greeted them loud voice, hoping he got the pronounciation right. The leader's concentration broke, and the fire fluttered, almost dying out. He looked up, and Varric was taken aback. The full plate armor he wore was all silvery-black, pretty and intimidating enough to make an Orlesian emperor drool for envy, but the face above the scale collar did not match. The chin was narrow, and his face was rounded by puppy fat. Blue eyes were a bit too big for his face. Like kid's. He _was_ a kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen.  
"It's curious to hear one of the durgen'len speaking the language of People.", the elf stood up. His voice was high, not changed yet. "You may call me lord Enfanim. What brings you to our fire?"  
"I'm Varric Tethras, a rogue and a storyteller. This is my companion, Blondie. I heard you might have decent armor to trade.", Varric said.  
"We have few items we don't need anymore.", Enfanim said, and Varric thought he sounded sad. "What do you offer in return?"  
Varric looked at Anders, and when the mage nodded, he decided to play at risk. They didn't have much to trade, and these elves might be interested on one item he didn't want to keep.  
"You asked why I speak your language. I had the unfortunate luck of being conscripted into Wardens to write memoirs of Andruil the Huntress from her own dictation. I'm willing to give it to you in exchange for an armor."  
"Andruil?", Enfanim repeated, and Varric saw his soldiers standing up, drawing weapons. One of them slipped away and vanished into darkness.  
"I take it that you don't like her?", Varric asked carefully.  
"We hold no love for the Huntress.", Enfanim said, his face cold. "Or her servants."  
"That's good.", Varric replied quickly, "because we don't like her either. Actually, me and Blondie are on the run from her. I'd be very pleased to gift her enemies with all dooming details of her adventures and what I know of her plans."  
"Enfanim. That one has merged with a spirit of Vengeance.", one of the soldiers said, nodding towards Anders.  
"Is it true?", the boy looked at Anders. "Show me."  
"They want to see Vengeance, Blondie. Do it.", Varric hissed in common tongue. "We're outnumbered, and this isn't going well."  
The soldier who had slipped away returned with two more elves, approaching behind Anders and Varric. The missing two had been purchasing supplies, because they had a sack full of something, but it looked like they weren't on bartering mood.  
Anders looked around and grimaced. They were surrounded by stern elves in black armor, who slowly advanced on them with weapons drawn.  
"This is your fault, Varric.", he said and let Vengeance up. Small fissures of red glow cracked all over his body, and Anders' eyes shone with red. Varric flinched, not wanting to look.  
"You wanted Vengeance?", the spirit asked in disembodied voice. "You'll have it."  
Enfanim's face shone with smile which reached all way to his eyes. He ran to Vengeance, and to Varric's shock, _hugged_ the abomination.  
"I've missed you _so_ much.", the elf said, pressing his cheek against Vengeance's burning skin. "This is the best birthday present I could have imagined."

 

The attitude of elves changed radically after that. Varric didn't get why, but they all seemed to like Anders. Elves were weird. One of them, a man with red tattoos called Senris, insisted that Varric and Vengeance should stay and share a dinner with them. Their food was splendid, even though Varric didn't want to know how they had gotten fresh fruits in Tombigbee's ever-cold climate.  
"We don't normally invite strangers to our fire, but this is, after all, the birthday of our young lord.", Senris mentioned as he passed a tray of meat in hot sauce to Varric. "His spirit is much uplifted by your arrival. It is good."  
Varric glanced at Vengeance. Enfanim sat next to him, speaking eagerly and gesturing with his hands. The woman who had instructed him in the fire spell was translating the discussion into common tongue for Anders. They were talking about burning something, and Vengeance seemed very interested in topic. Varric didn't like it.  
"How old is he?", Varric asked.  
"Old enough to carry a weapon and kill a man.", Senris replied. "So, master Tethras, you wished to trade. We have an extra armor, but I require more than a book from you. You told Enfanim that you are unwilling servants of Andruil, and it's obvious you have been tainted. We could teach Vengeance how to burn away the taint from your blood and free you. For a price."  
Varric drew a breath.  
"By Maker's balls.", he cursed silently. To be free of this wretched curse.. "What do you want?"  
The flames of campfire shadowed Senris' face, emphasizing the light side and dark side of his vallaslin. He looked like a demon.  
"A very simple thing.", Senris replied. "You will give your book to Fen'Harel, aid him in war effort against Andruil, and never tell anyone you saw us."

 

Inside their tent, Venial helped Siona to take off the armor. She slipped into nightgown and laid down on her usual spot between Senris and Venial. Senris was still talking with durgen'len outside, and Olaus and Llowyn were standing on guard. Venial doubted that little one would notice them coming in later. She looked very tired.  
"How does it feel to be thirteen, da'len?", Venial asked and gently stroked Siona's hair. They had undone the braids of young man for a night.  
"I'm worried.", she admitted in small voice. "When we left, I thought we would be back soon, but it's been two years and we are still not there yet. How long papae can linger?"  
"He is still alive.", Venial said softly. "Our lord would have wanted to be with you today, but maybe next year."  
Siona shook her head, blinking stubborn tears away.  
"Don't lie to me, Venial. I'm not a baby who can't count. If it took two years to get this far south, we will never get back home before I'm fourteen."  
"The journey back home is always quicker, da'len. You are not the same girl who left. Do you remember when we started? We couldn't ride longer than few hours each day because you became so sore you couldn't even walk properly. Now you are strong enough to wear armor and wield weapons, and you have mastered the form of chosen. Learning those skills took time, but all of them are necessary for us to continue."  
"What do you mean?", Siona asked, her eyes half-closed.  
"Senris says we will sell the horses here and continue south without.", Venial said. "It will make a great difference to speed, and it will be only some weeks before we reach our goal. The ice plains are too treacherous to travel on horse. There are giant frost worms which sense the if someone walks on the ice and attack from below."  
"Do you think papae would like my dragon?"  
"Little one, it's the sweetest black dragon I've ever seen.", Venial said, trying to keep the laughter off her voice. Siona didn't notice a thing, because she was already asleep.

 

They stayed for four more days in Tombigbee to rest and gather their strength for what was to come. The sentinels taught Vengeance, and apart from sparring lessons, Siona was free to do what she wanted. She knew that next part of their journey would either bring success or failure, and it all depended on her. The thought made her anxious. To come this far and fail was unacceptable. 

She tried to soothe herself with thoughts of home, but Arlathan had grown dim in her mind. Her real memories from Arlathan reached only a span of one year, starting from grandfather's house and ending in father's holy pool when she grew again. Ever since then, her life had been one long journey southward. Siona knew that she was better at killing people than playing with dolls, now, since she had given lady Lindrinae away and the Chasind just kept thinking they could ambush the elves to rob their fine equipment. The thought made her feel a bit ashamed, somehow wrong. Siona hadn't written a single word for two years because they had no supplies or time for lessons, and she only had the one book she had taken from the hut. The People in Arlathan would think her stupid, ignorant like a shemlen. Siona's hands were callused now and her knowledge of geography was limited to Chasind trail markers. Papae would probably faint if he saw the state of her hair. Olaus cut it with his dagger when it reached her shoulders, and she had to wear it in boy braids. 

She was nothing like the princess she was supposed to be. Even though she tried, she could no longer imagine herself playing with Lisel in her old room or running laps in papae's garden. Her body had changed, but her mind was different, too, and sometimes it felt like the combination was all wrong. Having small breasts was annoying because they were sensitive to cold and it was always cold in Sunless Lands. She certainly didn't like the cramps or bleeding - it was awful mess to clean up although Veniel had taught her a spell to deal with it - and Siona found it difficult to believe she would ever grow up to be pretty. People said that Mythal was beautiful, and Siona looked nothing like Mythal. Mythal was small and dark and curvy, while Siona was as tall as Senris, lean yet muscled. When she looked at her reflection on water, her mouth was too small and her eyes were too big, and her nose was pointy. The same features which were beautiful and regal on papae's face looked soft and babylike on hers. Once she had started to weep because she was so ugly, and then she had to lie to sentinels when they asked what was wrong, claiming that she was homesick. 

It was easier to be Enfanim than Siona. Nobody expected Enfanim to know how to dance or recite poetry or learn about administration or care for his hair. Enfanim was a sentinel, not a child, and he was justly proud for his skill. He liked being strong and having lumpy back - they were muscles, not lumps, Venial kept saying - because he didn't have to worry how he'd look in a dress. Siona remembered she had loved the sound of silk whispering against the mosaic floors of papae's temple when she walked. But the temple was partially gone, too. Mamae and Fen'Harel had wrecked her room along with papae's, and destroyed the entire wing she had called her home. Maybe it didn't matter that she was more comfortable now with Venial's spare underwear and full plate armor than silk gowns. She could always move to barracks with sentinels. They didn't care about beautiful things. They wanted to be weapons, not princesses. 

Siona didn't know if there was still a place for her in Arlathan, even though she wasn't a princess papae had loved, and not exquisite at all because she had not done anything although she knew that being beautiful was hard work. Saving papae was more important than being pretty, but she would have preferred to do both at same time, and it made her feel bad to fail everyone's expectations. She had grown too much and learned all kinds of things about killing and poisons and mindless ones she just knew nobody was going to like. She had not walked the Fade for years, and she barely remembered how to shield her dreams. Fen'Harel would be so disappointed. 

When she thought of going home, it was the thing she feared most. What everyone would say. Papae, grandfather, Fen'Harel and mamae would be _furious_ at her for running away to Sunless Lands. They might throw her into cell like Zevran, or put her in box, or lock her behind a mirror until she was old and grey. Maybe it would be better if she just gave the essence of sun to papae and ran away again to kill darkspawn and templars. That, at least, she knew how to do.

 

She was feeling morose when the durgen'len came to talk with her.  
"You don't look happy, lord Enfanim.", Varric Tethras noted.  
"I'm thinking of home.", she replied. "It's been a long time."  
"I'm from Kirkwall, myself, and it's been years since I was dragged away from home.", Varric noted and pulled a flask from his pocket. "Fancy a drink of wildwine?"  
"No, thank you.", Siona said automatically. She knew better than accept drinks from strangers after the accident with shemlen and their sweet-smelling mead which made her sick.  
"Suit yourself. So, tell me about home. What is it like to live in the city which floats in the sky?"  
Siona was startled. He was not supposed to know.  
"Don't be so alarmed.", Varric chuckled. He had low, friendly laugh. "I've seen enough elves to know the difference between city-dwellers, Dalish and the ancient ones. You all are definitely the last lot. The armor just shouts it."  
"It's not mine.", Siona slipped. "It's.. inherited."  
"Passed from father to son, then?", Varric shrugged. "I thought it might be so. You did introduce yourself as a lord. The elves didn't have any between the fall of the Dales and the Rise of Arlathan. I claim no expertise about elves, but I've travelled with so many history fanatics that I've picked up few things. Daisy, I mean Merrill, was always eager to talk, and you couldn't shut up the Inquisitor and Chuckles when they started going on about _elvhen_ even if you tried."  
"Who is the Inquisitor?", Siona asked. "Or Chuckles?"  
Merrill was familiar to her, because she had treated her and papae when they had measles, but she didn't recognize other names.  
"Don't tell me you haven't read my books?", Varric exclaimed. "The Inquisitor's Tale by Varric Tethras. Even the Chasind ask for autographs."  
Siona felt awful. Yet one more thing she didn't know.  
"We do have 'Keeper Takes His Staff' in papae's library, and he says it's hilarious, but I can't read shemlen language.", Siona said apologetically.  
Varric's face looked very odd for a moment before he cleared his throat and said:  
"You might want to wait a bit before you read that one, Scion."  
"What did you call me?", Siona wrinkled her brow.  
"Scion.", Varric grinned. "I give everyone nicknames. And that's what you are, aren't you? A young scion of noble house on a quest. I don't know if you are trying to save a princess or fight the dragon, but knowing there is a story behind this is obvious for a writer like me."  
"Or the princess fights to save the dragon.", Siona let it slip although she didn't meant to.  
"I see.", Varric said. "It just gets better. But let me tell you the tale of Inquisitor, then. The revised version. I always planned to make a second printing with corrections people sent to me, but then the Rise happened, and nobody wanted to hear about elves."

 

It took two days for Varric to finish his story, and the tale gave Siona much to think about. The picture he painted about mamae was much different than a frightening woman who came to tear her away from papae by force. Varric's Inquisitor was a quiet, serious woman who rode undead horse and loved reading old books. When Siona had asked if Varric liked Inquisitor, he had shaken his head and admitted that he had never really forgiven her for sacrificing Hawke. It meant that he had no reason to lie.

If Varric's description was true, maybe Siona should give mamae another chance. She didn't like her. She had no reason to. But Siona didn't like Mythal either, and still she felt better knowing that papae was not alone because Mythal sat by his bed and held his hand. It would have been horrible thing to be sick and alone.

Varric and Siona were speaking about religion when Senris came to then.  
"The Chantry teaches that the spirits were Maker's First children, and he made the humans next, so they would return to Fade each night they dreamed.", Varric explained.  
"What about elves and dwarves, then?", Siona asked critically.  
"Well, Scion, the humans haven't given much thought to other races. The Chantry says nothing about dwarves, and they think that elves are furthest from the Maker because you have different gods."  
"Isn't that preposterous? Why durgen'len aren't far from the Maker if you revere Stone?"  
"It's because the Chantry needs lyrium for templars, and Exalted March against Orzammar would end the production entirely. Mages go mad if they are exposed to raw lyrium, while dwarves have developed a resistance.", Varric explained.  
"An Exalted March to end the production of lyrium might be the best decision the shemlen faith has ever made.", Senris' voice was cold enough to send chills over Siona's spine. "The miners are nothing but ignorant beasts picking a corpse clean. It's despicable."  
"I didn't know elvhen feel so strongly about lyrium.", Varric showed his palms in apologetic gesture. "I was just explaining the Andrastian faith to Enfanim."  
"He does not need your tutoring, Varric. You have your task; focus on that. We are ready to leave." Senris said, pulling Siona up. "Go to Llowyn and begin to shift. I will follow you soon."

 

Siona was a bit sorry she didn't have time to say goodbye, but one did not argue when Senris gave an order. The sentinels had already packed up the camp, and when Siona saw the tents and horses were gone, she understood this was it.  
"Won't we need them anymore?", she asked Llowyn.  
"No, da'len.", he said. "We will fly until we reach the edge of abyss. Then you will go down alone."  
"Alone?", Siona repeated, feeling cold.  
"We would follow you if we could, little one.", Llowyn's eyes were worried. "But Senris says we can't. But we will wait and pray."  
"You will return, and then we can all go home.", Olaus added.  
"What if I fail?", her voice was barely whisper.  
"Then our lord will die, and the hope of People with him.", Llowyn told. "The world will be consumed by dark thing, and the Forgotten Ones will rule, until they will fall to Blight, too. You must know the price of failure in your heart, da'len, so you can be strong even when you are afraid."

Siona swallowed. She felt cold all over.

 

 

 

 


	38. Senris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Be careful, da'len."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be chapter 40, but I was blocked from writing anything else (namely chapters 38 and 39) once I got sucked into this hellspiral. So you got a lorebomb instead of happy, nice things.
> 
>  
> 
> Your prescribed dose of sorrow is best served with this soundtrack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VGWX9Jhq-Y  
> "Death of a legend" by Trevor Morris.

"Be careful, da'len.", Venial said, hugging her. There were tears in her eyes.  
"No matter what happens, don't lose your courage.", Olaus whispered in her ears before he crushed Siona against his chest. "We all love you, little lady."  
Llowyn couldn't say anything. He just kissed her forehead, keeping his eyes closed. One by one, the remaining sentinels left farewells to their charge.

 

Senris stood apart from others, watching his brothers and sisters. He knew better than anyone what would happen next, and it cut deep. He had known the child since she was infant in Elgar'nan's arms. Senris remembered how his lord had washed the baby in the water of holy pool and laughed quietly when he saw the tuft of ginger hair. Senris had seen the first transformation when Elgar'nan had bound Fen'Harel's daughter to himself, making Siona into his own reflection down to blood and bone. Now it was time for the second change, and the price of it was the sharp regret in his heart.  
But Senris was old. He knew what he was, and lying about one's own nature never ended well. He had chosen his master, and he would see this to bitter end, no matter the cost.  
"Come, Siona.", he called, extending his hand. The child took it, clearly nervous but trusting him as always. Her fingers twined with his, and Senris nodded to his brothers and sisters. They would wait. He had told them to stay here, no matter what would happen.

 

The snow cracked beneath their feet as they walked over the untouched scenery of mountains and plains. Siona had papae's best red cloak wrapped over her shoulders for warmth, but she was still shivering. Night was cold and the stars were bright on the sky. It felt odd to think that Arlathan floated up there, somewhere far in the north.  
They walked in silence, climbing up the top of a mountain. Siona could see the white snow stretching below in all directions, and a mountain after mountain for as long as she could see. There were no traces of a temple anywhere.  
"Where is it?", she asked from Senris. "What do I need to do?"  
She knew Senris' familiar face well enough to draw it from memory. He had ordinary features, dark brown hair and dark eyes of moss green, almost brown. He was her father's shadow, and first of the sentinels. But he looked different in the moonlight. Sad, and hard, and like he had tasted something bad. Sad, most of all.  
"Elgar'nan threw his father into Abyss.", he said slowly. "The Elvhen call it Void. It is a place like Veil, touching everything and everywhere. It's within, a place created by sorrow."  
"Isn't it the place where Forgotten Ones live?", Siona asked. "Where Andruil went mad?"  
"Yes.", Senris said. "But the story of Andruil didn't go entirely as you think. It is true that she began to stalk the Forgotten Ones in the Void, and suffered longer and longer periods of madness upon returning. She put on armor made of Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of Blight, and Taint spread on her lands. But Elgar'nan stayed his hand, and Mythal did nothing, until Andruil began to howl things meant to be forgotten."  
"What things?", Siona whispered.  
Senris turned to her, looking at her.  
"Like my true name, child. Geldauran was the second one to step out from Fade and take a form of flesh when Elgar'nan called us, but I was the first. I am the Forgotten One."  
"It's not true.", Siona's voice was too high, and her face had paled to deathly white, but she still held his hand. "You are lying. You are Senris. Our Senris."  
"Why do you think the Forgotten Ones are called such, da'len?", Senris asked. "You know their names. The words of our language hold more meaning than most remember."  
Not letting go of her hand, Senris fixed his gaze on nearby mountaintop and continued in calm voice:  
"In the beginning, we were five. Mythal and Elgar'nan. Me, Geldauran and one other. She was Love, while Geldauran had been Wisdom before taking flesh. Geldauran and Elgar'nan had an argument. The First Schism, a divide. A war began, and Mythal made a mistake. She held me imprisoned, not trusting me when I told her my true name, and Love died. Geldauran spilled her blood, and it fell like droplets on the face of earth, becoming lyrium."  
Siona was very quiet.  
"When it was over, your father came to me. I had lost my purpose, because Mythal had denied it, keeping me from acting my true nature. I was on the verge of transformation, and Elgar'nan stopped it from happening. He saved me. After Mythal saw what he had done, she promised me that if the same thing ever happened again, she would step aside and obey. She promised she would never keep me from saving Elgar'nan like she had done when I tried to protect Love."  
"What were you?", Siona asked.  
Senris looked at her.  
"You are clever enough to figure it out, da'len."  
She bit her lip, still reeling for Senris' confession. A part of her wanted to scream and run, because that was what one should do if she ever met a Forgotten One, but this was Senris. Senris who had built her a swing on a tree, dug lady Lindrinae from ruins and let her weep against his chest when she had killed her first templar. It was Senris who rolled his eyes and replied to papae's demands with long-suffering voice, making jokes in his own dry way but never laughing out loud. Siona thought long and hard all the different spirits Fen'Harel had lectured her about. Fen'Harel had said that the types from weakest to strongest were Compassion, Valor, Justice, Faith and Hope.  
"Faith.", she said.  
"I prefer Loyalty, but Faith is close enough.", Senris nodded. "You must understand, little one, that my nature requires something or someone to believe in. Loyalty is nothing without a proper object. Without it, I will become something else. Something terrible you must not ever see. I lost Love, and I begged Elgar'nan to bind me. He didn't want to. We had been friends, all five of us. There were no gods or servants then. We were all equals. But he saw my pain, and heard my pleas, and finally he gave in. I think we both cried."  
"But you were saved.", Siona didn't understand. It was supposed to be a good thing.  
"I was saved.", Senris agreed. "But it was never the same again. He became my object, the focus of my nature, instead of my friend. The war against Geldauran began, and never really ended. Years passed, and people forgot. Mythal began calling herself the goddess of Love, although you know she has little love in her nature. The beginning was forgotten, Elgar'nan and Mythal had their children, and Arlathan was built. The pantheon was formed, while Geldauran made her own."  
"But if you are as old as Geldauran and papae.. Aren't you a god, too?", Siona asked.  
"I chose not to be.", Senris said. "I never wanted to be. It was not in my nature, and I think it isn't in yours, either. I knew it when your mother came for you. You shouted you just wanted to be happy."  
"Creators are many things, but they rarely are happy.", Siona said, remembering all the horrible things gods did to each other. Secrets, and games, and twist and turns, broken loyalties. Their history was full of them.  
"Precisely, little one.", Senris said, kissing her forehead. "I'm very sorry, Siona. For everything. I love you, but sometimes even love isn't enough."  
"For what?", she asked, her fear coming back.  
"I told you what I am. What my nature is. And there is only one way you can enter the Void and bring back the essence of sun.", Senris said, taking a hold of her. The red runes flared on her skin, quick and desperate, but Senris called up his sleeping power and pushed through Elgar'nan's weakened magic by sheer force. Siona's blue eyes were huge and frightened, but there was no time to scream or run. Senris was too fast.  
He held her tight, cutting out her air supply with magic. She blasted him with magic, tried to kick him, fight him off with sheer desperation of impeding death, but she was still a child, while Senris was not.

 --

She fought for air, but there was none. She tried to scream, to plead, but Senris didn't listen. It felt like her lungs were on fire, tearing and burning.

Afterwards, Siona could never quite describe what happened. There was a moment just before end when she understood there was nothing she could do. She thought of her swing in a tree, and lady Lindrinae, and Senris who always praised her for good work, even when her letters were shaky and apostrophes were pointing to wrong direction. She wanted to weep for him, and for papae, and for herself, because it was wrong they all had been caught into this so long time ago that nobody even knew when it had started. It was a circle of hurt going on and on, and it would never end.

She had just wanted them all to be happy, Siona thought, when the burn in her lungs faded away and eerie sense of calm came over her. What strength she had left, it all failed her. She looked at Senris but her vision was dim and broken with red.

 

And then she died.

\--

When she became limp in his grasp, Senris let go. Siona fell like a rag doll on the snow. Her eyes stared at the sky unseeing, the white around blue iris bloodshot. There were bruises on her face, around mouth and nose. Senris turned away and closed his eyes, not wanting to see.

But the man he had been for last decade didn't let him be. Senris kept seeing Siona's trusting face in front of him, and he couldn't bear it. The foolish child should have ran the moment he told what he was, not stayed and held his hand. But she loved him, like she loved Elgar'nan despite everything. It was her nature, or would have been, had she ever became old enough to summon a spirit to proclaim herself an adult.

_You are Senris. Our Senris._

He tried to silence the memory of her voice, thinking of Void. Although he had taken another name, becoming another person entirely, Senris had not forgotten the strength found in absence. He needed it. Absence of weakness, and of limitation. Absence of caution, and of mercy. But his heart was too raw, and his oaths hurt too much to silence her memory. Senris had known this had to happen the moment he had taken her hand and led Siona away from Elgar'nan's bedside. It had to be her.

Bowing his head in anguish, Senris screamed like a wounded animal, his spirit trashing and raging against the chains of Elgar'nan's binding. Reveling in his pain, feeding his guilt, he tore through the mask of a man he had been for a very long time, and let himself feel what it truly meant to serve another, to save his lord no matter what it cost. He howled the injustice of it, grieved for his ruined loyalty and the dead child at his feet. His soul burned with despair.

Senris could feel his spirit twisting, changing, turning. He screamed again, calling his lord, who had been his friend once. He prayed for Elgar'nan's wrath to burn him through and release him from the agony he felt, or at least make their sacrifice worth of something. Senris cursed Mythal, who had stolen his purpose and forced him on the path which had led to this moment. He had once begged Elgar'nan to bind him, but somewhere along the way, he had given his loyalty freely to another, and now the price for dissonance had been paid. He had killed his little lady to save his lord, and lost them both with one deed.

 

And then, suddenly, the desolate scenery around him changed with power invoked and summoned by his grief. The bindings Elgar'nan had once bestowed on him broke free with explosion of ice and snow, and the vallaslin carved into Senris' skin was lost as he shed his old form like a set of discarded clothes.

 

When the sentinels, alerted by screaming and howling, ran up the mountain, Senris, the leader of Elgar'nan's sentinels, was gone. A different man stood at his place, his armor made of Void, and all who saw him forgot his true face. Sparing no glance at his former comrades, Senris took a step forwards, vanishing into nothingness.

Like he had told Siona before he killed her, the Void had always been within, and it was a place created by sorrow.

\--

 

In Arlathan, Elgar'nan opened his eyes. Amanya, who was standing on guard, was startled to see it.  
"Bring me my orb. And Falon'Din.", Elgar'nan said, his voice weak and barely audible. "I need Falon'Din. Now."  
Amanya relied his commands to servant, who hurried to do his lord's bidding. When she looked at Elgar'nan again, he had curled into a small ball, hiding his face against pillow. His shoulders were shaking, and Eldest of the Sun wept.

\--

 

Siona fell through the ink-black darkness, pulled by unseen power. She fell, weightless and slow, descending through the nothingness for what felt like Ages. But the bottom rose up to meet her, and the collision hit her hard enough to make her eyes water.  
"First child?", the disembodied voice echoed from the abyss. "Second child? Can you feel? Can you touch?"  
She could feel there was something in the dark, watching her. A vast presence, alien and frightening, surrounding her from all sides at once.  
"First child? Second child?", the voice muttered. "No. Neither. The Eldest. You are the blood of Eldest. Child's vengeance turning into child of vengeance."  
Siona felt something reaching for her in the dark, and she screamed.  
"Embrace the light.", the voice hissed. "There is no darkness in Maker's Light."

 

\--

 

Elgar'nan stumbled in snow. He would have fallen, if he hadn't been held up between Falon'Din and Dirthamen.  
"Father, why do you insist we drag you all way here through the Fade if you can scarcely stand up?", Falon'Din asked, breathing heavily.  
"I would appreciate knowing why.", Dirthamen grumbled under his heavy weight.  
Elgar'nan shook his head. He couldn't say it. If he said it, it would be true, and he was quite certain he would choke on the words. She was his _baby_.  
"Up to the mountain.", he ordered instead, pointing at the right one.

 

They saw the glow of light first. It was bright enough to pierce the heavens. A group of seven sentinel's stood there, their expressions ranging from shock to fear and sorrow when they saw their lord approaching.  
"My lord Elgar'nan.", Venial kneeled down, the others following her example.

He ignored them, raising his arm to shield his eyes from blinding light. Then he saw it, and his heart skipped a beat. It was different to know and fear than see. He saw his daughter laying on a snow. Elgar'nan remembered a small girl with two braids and lady Lindrinae. This one was stranger to him, a young woman wearing his armor and braids of a boy, but the silvery blond of her hair was unmistakable. A father knows his child.

"Don't come any closer.", he said to others. "Light will burn you to ashes."

  
He pushed his sons away and stumbled forwards. Elgar'nan pulled power from his orb, willing himself to move. Ten steps. At five steps, his legs gave away, and he crawled forwards. Two steps, and Elgar'nan didn't know how he did it. But he was finally in the heart of light, and the glow was coming through Siona's skin.

 

His baby had grown up to be beautiful, like he had always expected. Or she would have been beautiful, if not for the dark bruises around her mouth and nose. Her blue eyes were red with blood, but the speckles were slowly dissolving in heat which burned inside her. The binding runes glowed red, their light still fighting the essence of sun. When he saw that, Elgar'nan knew he had been saved, but for a price he never had wanted to pay.  
He pulled her into his arms, blinking away the stupid tears which made it hard to see anything.  
"Everything will be all right, princess.", he told his daughter. "Papae is here."  
"She is dead, father.", Dirthamen pointed out from where he stood.  
"Shut up!", Elgar'nan snapped. Ignoring the idiots, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He placed his lips on Siona's cold mouth and breathed in.

He felt the essence of sun flowing inside his body. It was like liquid heat streaming in his veins, filling him with warmth and heat and power. His magic woke up, hungry and tired after the long slumber, and it flared into life. Elgar'nan could feel the black taint inside his body, and he turned his wrath inwards, hunting every last speckle of black and burning it with light which was bright enough to kill. When he opened his eyes again, he saw everything through the mist of power, and he noticed the runes on Siona's body were dying down.

Elgar'nan had lied in Mythal's court when he had said the runes only changed the way Siona had looked. Their bond went deeper than that, shaping her into his image. The runes had been the very thing which had imprisoned the essence of sun inside her dead body after her spirit had entered the Void. They bound her body, but her spirit, too, but even strongest magic could not withstand the essence of sun too long. Now that the power was gone, she would soon be gone too, her spirit dissolved in the winds of Beyond.

"Falon'Din.", Elgar'nan said when the power was safely contained within him. "Bring her back."  
Falon'Din looked at Dirthamen, not sure what he should do.  
"Don't look at your brother. I'm Eldest of the Sun, and I'm commanding you. Bring her back.", Elgar'nan roared, his features twisted by rage. Falon'Din could feel the magic rising with his every word, and not wanting to risk an early death, he quickly crossed the distance between himself and Elgar'nan. He kneeled on the snow, and took the dead girl's hand between his, gathering his mana. It was not even close to what it had been once. Falon'Din had no servants, no sentinels, nothing left after his long, horrible vigil behind the mirror.

He swallowed nervously, emptying his mind to begin the spell, and then he felt a familiar touch of hands on his shoulders. It was Dirthamen, kneeling behind him to lend his support and his strength. It was a first display of affection or friendship Falon'Din had gotten from him after the business with shard and his own, failed attempt to gain power over the rest of the pantheon. The unexpected gesture made Falon'Din pause, and Elgar'nan's eyes glowed with terrible, unforgiving light. Promptly, Falon'Din ignored the feelings of warmth and gratefulness in his heart and sank deep in the depths of his mind to travel Beyond before the soul Elgar'nan demanded would escape his reach.

\--

The light was suddenly gone, and she was released. The agonizing darkness around her dissolved, changing into green mists of the Fade. She stood at the beginning of a winding path near the Black City. It was a trail which was not supposed to be here, because there were no roads in the Beyond, but each step she took made her feel lighter, different. Her memories started to fade, and the pain and fear felt like a bad dream, forgotten when the morning came. She walked the path, and she started to forget.

The part of Siona which still remembered, thought of papae. She remembered the low amused rumble of his laugh, and how he always felt warm to touch. She imagined papae sitting on his throne, beautiful and bright in silver brocade and rust red, a smile on his lips, and her heart swelled with love.

She remembered Fen'Harel, who had cold temple and only one sweater, but who had all the patience in the world as he guided her through the Fade. There had been secret pride in his eyes when he looked at her, and wistfulness, but always warmth underneath. She loved him too, even when he wore the horrible sweater and ugliest pants in the world.

Grandfather had a box of sweets hidden on the highest shelf of the bookcase, and when nobody saw, he slipped one to Siona. They tasted like strawberries, and she loved to wait until they just dissolved in her mouth. Grandfather looked serious, but he was safe and always reliable, like a mountain, and Siona loved him for that.

It felt like she had submerged in a warm water. Bit by bit, all the memories she had, started to dissolve. She forgot the never ending cold of Sunless Lands, and how badly the Sun had frightened her. She forgot his mad rambles about first children, and laughed as the memories flew away with a wave of her fingers. And then she forgot her own name.

She was thinking of Senris, and remembering things she didn't truly remember. She had been very young, and she missed a soft voice which had taken all her fears away. The shape of a woman had been familiar, once, and smelled of milk and warmth and love. But she didn't come when Siona cried, and the absence made her hurt. Senris came instead. He held her against his shoulder, and she was very small. Her head fit on the palm of his hand. Senris hummed a song for her, and he was gentle and kind. She loved him, too, even though he was not the one with soft voice whom she had wanted.

 

She had walked so far on the winding path that the Black City was merely a silhouette behind her, when she suddenly stopped. There was a man standing in the path, blocking her way. He wasn't old at all, and he looked somewhat familiar even though she had never seen him before. He held something behind his back, hidden from her sight.  
"There is no need to hurry so.", he said, sounding very friendly. "You can't go further before you tell me your name. It's a rule."She wrinkled her forehead. It was hard to remember.  
"Love.", she suggested.  
He shook his head lightly.  
"It's not your name, sister."  
"It is what I am.", she insisted, and she knew she was right.  
"But it is not your name.", he said.  
"I don't know what else to call myself.", she said tentatively.  
"I can tell you your name if you come closer. ", he promised. "I will whisper it into your ear."  
"Who are you?", she asked insecurely. She could almost remember something bad happening because she had not been careful enough, but what it had been, escaped her at the moment.  
"Falon'Din.", he smiled. "I'm called friend of the dead."  
"It is all right, then.", she was pleased, and walked to him.

He bent to whisper something in her ear, but the moment she heard her name on his lips, she felt something else, too. Falon'Din had gathered all the memories she had let to fly away, and he had been hiding them behind his back. His magic held her bound, and his hands gripped her arms while the memories flew back in, and she screamed. She was no longer light and weightless, and she remembered everything she wanted to forget. She was no longer Love, just Siona, and Siona was dead. Murdered.

"Siona.", Falon'Din said seriously. "You have to come back with me. You made father cry."  
She blinked tears away, trying to calm herself after yet one more hurt.  
"I would never do something like that.", she said in shaky voice.  
"But you did.", Falon'Din insisted. "Elgar'nan is holding your dead body and crying. He made me and Dirthamen drag him all way from Arlathan to Sunless Lands because he was too sick to walk."  
Siona's lips started to tremble.  
"I didn't want to hurt papae."  
"You have to come back.", Falon'Din repeated, offering his hand. "Just for a moment. To say goodbye."  
"Will it hurt?", Siona asked hopelessly, although she knew the answer. Everything hurt, but she took his hand nonetheless.  
Falon'Din didn't answer. The soft whispers of his magic wrapped around her, and he pulled her away from the winding path. It took lots of mana, Siona knew, and she thought she felt traces of other, borrowed strength in the spell which forced her to fit her spirit inside a form she no longer held. She could not see, only feel, and she flinched as she felt papae's secret runes burning on her skin as she slipped inside. Her lungs hurt, and her face was sore.

\--

When it was done, Falon'Din was feeling dizzy and his vision was filled with little bright spots. He would have fallen over Siona's body if not for Dirthamen's steadying hands, and a flow of familiar power he had let Falon'Din to borrow.  
"I can't keep her here for much longer.", Falon'Din warned. "It's time to say your farewells, father."

Elgar'nan was glowing now, the heat of his body turning his tears into steam. The snow was melting around them in a wide circle, and his revitalized power was crackling, as strong as it had been on the day he had hidden the essence of sun in the Void. Elgar'nan held his dead daughter, seeing the red runes flash weakly once and starting to fade again. He thought what he wanted to say, what to tell Siona, and he couldn't find a single word. He was the Eldest of the Sun. He hated farewells. He would not do this. He had fought the sun for eternity and defeated his father; he would not yield this time either. This moment should, would _not_ happen.  
Elgar'nan shook his head. Making up his mind, he put his mouth on hers and breathed out. Just the smallest fraction of power. It stung his mouth, burning his lips, and Siona convulsed violently in his arms, letting out a pitiful whimper of pain. Ignoring the shocked gazes of the twins, Elgar'nan pulled away.

Siona blinked, and he saw the faint glow flashing through the blue of her eyes. There would be residual damage, a price for carrying the essence of sun; Elgar'nan knew it. But right now he didn't care.  
Her bleary gaze focusing on Elgar'nan, Siona drew her first shuddering breath. The moment was eerie echo of a scene which had happened thirteen years ago, when Elgar'nan had sunk her under water in Well of Light.  
"You are safe now, little one.", Elgar'nan said, cradling her close. "You are safe now."

 

 


	39. Unforgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana tries to force herself to build diplomatic relations with humans, but it does not come easily to her.
> 
> Abelas is very nervous.
> 
> Innocent people suffer from Senris' sense of humor.

"Are you certain this is a good idea?", Ellana asked from Fen'Harel as they walked in the Fade.  
"I know how you feel about the Chantry, vhenan, and I hold no love for them either. But the war is coming, whether we want it or not, and the humans will get caught between us and the Forgotten Ones. Elgar'nan would let Thedas burn, and rebuild from the ashes. Mythal has no interest in the fate of Thedas, she cares only about his vengeance and destruction of taint. The twins or June will do nothing to help them. Countless innocent lives would be lost, and I find the thought repulsive."  
"I understand your arguments, but..", Ellana shook her head. "It's best if you do the talking. I don't think I can offer helping hand to Cassandra after what they did to me."  
Sensing her distress, Fen'Harel took her hand.  
"It is admirable that you can support me in this. Nobody would fault you for choosing otherwise. I won't ask more from you.", he said.  
Ellana offered him a small, serious smile before looking away. She understood his arguments, and theoretically she could agree that avoiding needless deaths was a good principle. But after a decade of imprisonment, mutilation and rape, she couldn't find it in her heart to feel compassion towards humans, even though she knew the majority of them were innocent to crimes of few.

They continued their walk in silence, holding hands, until Fen'Harel suddenly stopped.  
"I think it's that one.", Fen'Harel said, gesturing towards one bubble of dream.  
Ellana considered it.  
"It is hers.", she agreed, not wanting to do this."Are you ready?", he asked.  
"As ready as I'll ever be.", Ellana sighed and they stepped in.

 

Ellana saw a glimpse of Cassandra dressed in the vestments of Divine and walking through the yard of Grand Cathedral before she felt Fen'Harel's magic taking over the dream. She was childishly relieved for the change, because she didn't have happy memories of that place. It had been there on the yard templars had forced the rite of Tranquility on her and Anders. 

Dread Wolf had chosen the rotunda of Skyhold, and Ellana found herself sitting in Solas' chair while he stood next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder. Cassandra no longer wore her priestly vestments but the armor of Inquisition.  
"What is the meaning of this?", Cassandra asked sharply, glaring at them from the other side of the table. She was no mage, but her temper had always been easy to provoke.  
"I summoned you here to talk.", Fen'Harel said, his own clothes changed to familiar outfit of white sweater and green trousers. "We must discuss the dangers of Blight. The Korcari Wilds to south of Ferelden swarm with darkspawn, and our agents tell us that the next Blight is likely to begin within months. We suspect that the location will be under Tevinter. It offers the greatest gains and least resistance, since the Black Divine has been most enthusiastic in killing our kin."  
Cassandra blinked.  
"You summoned me here to.. talk? Is this real?"  
"There is no way any of us will enter the Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux and talk to you in flesh. Not after what happened.", Ellana said, unable to keep bitterness off her voice. "But Taint is a weapon nobody should have, and it is in our interest to destroy it."  
"We have Grey Wardens for that.", Cassandra said suspiciously.  
"The Grey Wardens are not what they seem.", Fen'Harel said. "Their First Warden is my sister, lost to taint and madness. Andruil leads your Wardens, and they are working against you, not with you."  
"How do I know you don't lie? That this is not just another plot?", Cassandra asked.  
"What kind of plot?", Ellana was starting to lose her patience. "We have never plotted against you! It's you who has brought ruin to our People. We killed Gaspard and his guests. That was true. But you have already avenged that thousand fold, with your Elven Heresy Resolution. You have hunted down thousands of elves who never did you wrong, all in the name of your religion. It's what humans do. You trample and smother everything you can't understand. There was no reason for you to cut off my hand! I never used the anchor against you! You accepted my mark gladly when there was the Breach in the sky, but the moment it was gone, I became a threat in your minds. You repaid me with mutilating my mind by tranquility and my body by amputation, and even that wasn't enough!"  
Her words were coming too fast now, and her breathing was rapid.  
"You sent a templar to interrogate me about elven artifacts, and ordered him to rape me! Wasn't it enough to take my magic and my hand? Why did you have to take what remained of my dignity? He chained me to a table and raped me, and you are responsible for it, Cassandra. I thought we were friends, once. I thought you were better than that.", Ellana shouted, her voice breaking. "I lost everything, and when I came back home, my own baby no longer knew me or wanted me. It was your fault. You bloody shemlen and your cursed Chantry."  
She was holding the edge of Solas' table so hard that her knuckles turned white. The inkwell and books on the table were trembling, and it took a moment before Ellana understood that it was because she herself was shaking.  
Cassandra just stared at her, dark eyes horrified.  
"I'm.. I didn't order it. You have to believe me. I would never have.."  
"It was your templar! You were responsible for it!", she shouted. "I was stuck in your prison. You are responsible for what your underlings do to people. I'm not the only one. We've saved dozens of elves with the same story. Some of them are children not old enough to bleed. What happened to your dreams of better Chantry who would feed the hungry and protect the innocent, Cassandra? Your Chantry is nothing but a bigoted war machine bent on destruction. I swear you are worse than Elgar'nan!"  
"Vhenan.", Fen'Harel's voice was balm to her hurting heart. "I think you should leave.  
"It hurts.", she said, fighting against tears.  
"I know, love. I know.", he said, embracing her. "It was too much to ask you to come. Go to better dreams."  
For first time in her life, Ellana Lavellan fled from her duty, and she felt almost pitifully grateful that Solas was there to shoulder it instead.

 

 

When she woke up, he was still asleep next to her, his soft breaths relaxed and slow. Ellana could not sleep, so she dressed and left to wander around the temple instead. One of the advantages of housing a large clan of eighty children and their carers was that somebody was always awake. She peeked into great chamber where priests had once worshipped Fen'Harel, but now it was full with soft puffs of little ones. There was quiet chatter in the former dining room where the older boys slept. They were telling ghost stories, and Ellana put quick end to it. Stories were fun, but when first one would get nightmares, they would wake up the whole house.  
"Go to sleep.", she ordered firmly.  
"Yes, Keeper.", they chorused reluctantly and she dispelled their light, deciding to check later whether their agreement had been genuine or not.

She ended up in kitchen, where Fiona was staying up with a baby who was teething. Ellana remembered him, he was one of the youngest they had brought back up. A sad story. They had found the baby and her mother from Orlesian whorehouse, and mother had refused to go, saying that she knew nothing about city in the sky or the elven gods. But she had insisted they'd take her little one, saying that maybe Lasa could become what she could not.  
"He is a sweet one.", Fiona said as she poured tea into cups. "Babies usually are."  
"You are right.", Ellana said. She sat in a rocking chair, holding the baby to give Fiona a break. "Babies are easy to please. They want to be comforted, fed, or changed. It only gets complicated when they grow up."  
"I wouldn't know.", Fiona said wistfully. "I had a baby, once. I had to give him away to his father. It was better that way."  
"I don't think I could bear having any more babies.", Ellana replied with soft sigh. "I had two, and lost them both."  
"And now we have eighty-three.", Fiona smiled.  
"Yes.", Ellana's lips curved into smile. "Now we have eighty-three."  
"Motherhood is a strange thing.", Fiona remarked. "I never thought I would end up like this. But maybe it's give and take. The little ones here need me more than my son does, now. I think it's more about nurture than nature, in the end."  
"I think so too.", Ellana nodded quietly. "When I had Siona, I thought she was a baby I could keep. I was uneasy with Arlathan. Everything was so strange and alien. I wanted to think she would be my link to my own past and the family I grew up with. I believed she would be my First I could teach and guide to Dalish ways. But when I came back, she was Elgar'nan's daughter through and through, and she didn't want a mother or anything I could offer."  
"Don't be so hard on yourself.", Fiona said softly, touching her hand. "Children change and so do their opinions. I always consoled myself by thinking that at least my son was happy. I want to believe he was."  
"That is what I believe, too. I think Siona was a happy child.", Ellana said. Speaking of her dead daughter still stung, from time to time, but her sorrow had lost the sharpest edge. "The sentinels doted on her, and so did Elgar'nan. I think it was a bit like living in a clan."  
"And now we live in a clan, too.", Fiona remarked. "The children have learned enough elvish to play with words. The older ones dubbed your partner Vhen'Harel after he forced the pantheon to give mortal elves the right to represent themselves in court regardless of age."  
"Our rebellion?", Ellana laughed.  
"Give it few centuries, and it will be his name.", Fiona prophesied. She stood up and walked to window. It was raining outside. In the latest meeting of pantheon, June had been persuaded to add rain to weather cycles for better harvest.  
"I think someone is at the gates.", Fiona remarked. "I see a light."

 

Few minutes later a soaked Abelas entered the kitchen, leaving puddles on the floor.  
"It's time. ", he said simply. "Your assistance is required."  
"Why do babies always want to come in the middle of the night?", Ellana asked, shaking her head. "And in such nasty weather?"  
"I don't know and frankly, I don't care. Gather your things and come. She hurts, and I don't wish to linger.", Abelas said sharply, glaring at his daughter.  
Fiona snorted as Ellana stood up and gave Lasa to older woman.  
"A bit nervous, are you?", Fiona asked from Abelas.  
"I simply don't like being here when my wife is alone and in pain.", he snapped.  
"Be sensible. I saw her taking a dragon alone when Arlathan burned. Having a baby is hardly a challenge for someone like that.", Fiona advised.  
"Yes, she fought a dragon, and it didn't end well.", Abelas replied.  
Ellana could tell from his voice and the tightness around his jaw that her father was well and truly worried. She had no doubts about Kallian's health, even though Abelas fretted. Her father had a thing for bossy warrior women, and Ellana was quite sure that giving birth would be a breeze compared to lyrium tattoos.  
"How long it's been going on?", Ellana asked as she rummaged through cupboards for herbs she required.  
"Since late afternoon.", Abelas snapped.  
"Why didn't you come earlier?"  
"I didn't know! She didn't say anything before she got into argument with Fanim at the market and her waters broke when she tripped him. Then she said you shouldn't be bothered until she was truly hurting."  
Ellana tried very hard not to roll her eyes.  
"Halla yoghurt wars again?", she asked, unable to hide the mirth in her voice.  
"It's not my fault!", Abelas snarled uncharacteristically. "Stop laughing!"  
She found the basket she had been looking for and shook her head.  
"Could you please leave a note for Fen'Harel?", Ellana asked Fiona. "He should not be disturbed."  
Fiona nodded, and Ellana followed her father who was already waiting outside.

It was a well known secret that Abelas loved halla yoghurt, and after their marriage, it had become one of Kallian's favorite ways to spoil him. The areas suitable for halla in Arlathan were not large enough and therefore the supply was strictly limited. Unfortunately, the halla yoghurt was Dirthamen's favorite food as well, and it was duty of Fear and Deceit - aka Fanim and Hamal - to procure it. They usually came to market late afternoon, and imagined they could waltz in, jump the queue and get the last jar just because it was for Dirthamen. It didn't work so simply. Kallian Tabris had never suffered bullies, and the bullies who were marked to different god and wanted to get the last jar she was going to buy for her Enasal... Ellana did not understand why they couldn't simply not to go to market at the same time instead of having spectacular arguments every Monday afternoon. Fen'Harel had some insight into it, claiming it was a form of sentinel rivalry and some sort of odd game between three of them. The inhabitants of Arlathan had dubbed the event 'halla yoghurt wars' and Ellana knew some people timed their shopping just to see what would happen on that particular Monday.

 

Just as Ellana had suspected, the labor was well on the way when they finally arrived to Abelas' house. Kallian was walking circles in the kitchen and cursing in Tevene. The blue lyrium inside her skin was burning furiously, reacting to her pain. Shianni and Cyrion were sitting by the table.  
"How are you?", Abelas asked, his yellow eyes worried.  
"It's bad. But not as bad as falling off a dragon. Or the lyrium tattoos.", Kallian hissed between her teeth. "I can handle this."  
Abelas didn't look convinced.  
"I think she's lying.", Shianni said firmly. "Last time I heard her using those curses was when we both got flogged for talking back."  
Kallian offered her cousin a pained grin.  
"Do you mean third or fourth time, cousin? We talked back a lot."  
"Stop it.", Cyrion said. "This is not the time to think of unpleasant past."  
"Here is a voice of reason.", Ellana said, taking Kallian's arm. "Listen to it. I need to check how you are doing. I trust you have everything prepared, father?"  
Abelas nodded towards open door, looking as tense as a coiled spring. Although his marriage had been shocking at first, Ellana had decided that it had done him a world of good. Enasal, as he wished to be called these days, wasn't as serious and sad as the man Ellana remembered. She would have expected Abelas to be at least mildly concerned about his lifelong ban to hospital, but it made him smug instead. He laughed easier, these days, and Ellana suspected that he quite enjoyed the yoghurt wars, even though he would never admit it. Maybe it was refreshing change to have someone fight and care for him, instead being the one doing the caring and fighting.

Ellana had to admit that Abelas' worries were not entirely unfounded. Kallian was quite old to have her first baby, and her injuries from a fall were serious. Ellana couldn't tell if her hip bones had healed right, and elves were never wide to begin with. From her own experience, Ellana remembered that giving birth to Siona had been hellish compared to Enethriel. The babies born after the Veil and having elvhen father tended to be more robust.  
"Stop looking so serious.", Kallian commanded. "If Enasal sees you like this, he'll freak out. More than he already does."  
"It won't be long now, and I'm not entirely sure about your hip bones.", Ellana admitted.  
"If the baby can't get out usual route, you can always cut me open.", Kallian told her. "I saw it done once in Tevinter. A magister with barren wife who was desperate for heir. He raped one of slaves, a mage, until she got pregnant, and his wife stuffed pillows under her dress to look gravid. I was there when birth went wrong, and they cut her open to save the baby. A horrible mess with lots of blood. The magister just walked away with his precious heir, and I saw the bastard three days later holding a ball for the new heir of his house."  
"I don't like the sound of that."  
"Nobody does.", Kallian stated coolly. "But it's better than dying, and if you broke the Veil, I would think you could knit my flesh back together. Just make sure Enasal does not see it."  
"You are awfully protective of my father."  
"Someone has to be.", Kallian looked pale and serious, grimacing as another contraction came over her. "People just lean on him for strength, never considering if he can take it or not. But he is a man like any other, and not unbreakable."  
She stood up, leaning against the wall and panting through the pain.  
"Have you ever given a thought on why I had to wait eleven years for him? It was because of you. He felt that he had to give so much to you and Mythal that there was nothing left to offer to me.", Kallian said, looking at Ellana. "His life was taken over by his service to Mythal and trying to solve your relationship triangles with Fen'Harel and Elgar'nan. And when you were lost, he grieved, and Fen'Harel moved in. Enasal inherited your boyfriend, in a sense, because Fen'Harel was entirely useless. He just wept and roamed in the Fade, never giving thought on who forced him to wake up and eat, or who cleaned or shopped the groceries or told him it was time to meet the pantheon. I used to come here every three days and drag Enasal out to play a round of chess with Cyrion because he had to have something for himself. And if it wasn't Fen'Harel, it was Siona, but at least Elgar'nan was reasonable about it. Senris brought the baby for a day visits, and they sent a nurse with her so Enasal didn't have to do everything."  
"I'm sorry.", Ellana said, astonished. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about this."  
"It wasn't easy to watch a man I love crumbling under his duty for a decade, when I was unable to do anything about it.", Kallian said. "I don't mean this nastily, but it was a good thing you and Fen'Harel decided to move to his temple.Fen'Harel's habit of leaving open books all around house drives Enasal mad. He's fussy about cleaning."  
When Ellana thought of it, she could recall several instances with Abelas cleaning the house with a look of a martyr on his face. A giggle escaped her lips, and she put a hand over her mouth.  
"How do you bear it?", she asked. "Father's standards of cleanliness are absurd."  
"His other traits make up for it.", Kallian smiled. "And I think that living in sentinel quarters helped. I kind of got used to having a floor clean enough to eat from.

 It was just before dawn when Ellana finally entered the kitchen. She washed her hands under the tap and dried them on her apron, which was speckled with blood.  
"Something unexpected happened, father.", she said as she turned to face Abelas.  
"What?", Abelas barely could emit the words. Terror rose in his heart, clenching it's talons deep.  
"You should have gone to hospital.", his daughter said accusingly. "These things should be known before birth."  
He looked at blood stains on the apron, and his mind registered the silence around them.  
"How?", he asked helplessly. "Why?"  
"I'm not entirely sure how it works. You probably should ask from Mythal, but the Keepers theorize that sometimes a pregnant mother draws spirits which cannot bear to be apart and--"  
"Tell me how she died!", Abelas snarled, unable to keep pain off his voice.  
"She didn't die.", Ellana said. "Stop fretting, father. Kallian is tired but fine. She is fine."  
Abelas tried to draw deep breaths, reining in the panic he had felt. His heart was still beating frantically, and it took a moment before he could calm down.  
"What I was trying to tell you, father", Ellana began again, "is that there were two babies instead of one. You have twins. Two healthy boys. So if you have more clothes and another crib stashed somewhere in the attic, it would be good. And now you can go to see for yourself."  
Cyrion patted him on the back, laughing delightedly as Abelas jumped up and vanished towards stairs.  
"It seems that long life does not make waiting any easier.", Cyrion said warmly. "Poor man was a nervous wreck. Would you like something to eat, Ellana? You have had a long night, and we are grateful for your assistance."  
"A cup of strong tea would be appreciated. Thank you.", Ellana smiled. "There is a meeting of pantheon soon after the dawn, and Mythal does not like people sleeping on their thrones."

 

Her steps were light when she left the house and walked towards the Chamber of Ruling. She had admired her new brothers, marveling the softness of their skin and engaged in argument on which side of the family they took after. Everything looked fine, but she had promised to come back tomorrow to check how they were doing. Ellana had given strict instructions for Kallian to rest, and her family had promised to stay for a few days to help.

She met Mythal at the doors of the Chamber of Ruling. June was already there, sitting on his throne, but there was no sign of twins or Fen'Harel yet.  
"Enasal asked me to pass a message to you. He is not coming to meet you later today.", Ellana said.  
"The babies have been born, then?", Mythal asked, sounding pleased.  
"You knew?", Ellana arched her eyebrows.  
"Of course.", Mythal nodded. "A goddess of motherhood, remember. I try to keep a track on my sentinels. But there is another concern we must address immediately. Come in. We can't wait for Fen'Harel."

Ellana took her familiar seat which had previously belonged to Sylaise. Mythal had explained that the shard Elgar'nan had given her was Sylaise's divinity, the hubris of power which made her different from other elves. Elgar'nan had taken it after Sylaise's death, and bestowed it upon Ellana as his parting gift. She was not entirely sure how she felt about that, or Elgar'nan. It was true that without her divinity she would not have survived Tranquility, broken the Veil or avenged herself, but Ellana was not entirely convinced that a gift of divinity made up stealing her memories. Elgar'nan was conflicting individual. He was lovely when he wanted to, and horrible for the rest of the time. Mythal was welcome to have him.

Mythal was just about to start, when the double doors opened and Fen'Harel slipped inside. His long ginger hair was tangled and his eyes were still sleepy. It was clear that he had just woken up.  
"Finally.", Mythal said dryly. "This is not a day to be late, Fen'Harel. Dirthamen's servants came to me at dawn. They told that Elgar'nan had summoned Falon'Din to him, and Dirthamen had accompanied his brother."  
"Wasn't Elgar'nan in uthenera?", June asked.  
"He was.", Mythal nodded, her lips a thin line. "I don't know what happened, but apparently he woke up and ordered the twins to take him somewhere. He is still poisoned, weak and unable to stand up without support, and now those three idiots are somewhere in Thedas. And since Dirthamen is with them, they're untraceable."  
"This is not good.", Ellana groaned.  
"What about the twins? Are they trustworthy enough?", Fen'Harel asked sharply.  
Mythal considered his question.  
"I believe so. There are no traces of taint after Elgar'nan burned it away, and they have been progressing. But guiding a spirit back to his original purpose is not a simple thing. It is slow process which requires peace and quiet, most of all. It is always easier to twist again after it has happened once. I'm worried. For them, and for Elgar'nan. The twins aren't nearly as strong as they were at their peak. They spent too much to stay awake behind the mirror, and their places of power did not survive the fall of Elvhenan like ours did. Dirthamen's priests went mad and Falon'Din's died in futile search of their god."  
"There are the dragons to consider. I hope they haven't gone to look for those.", June said carefully.  
"The Forgotten Ones must have set a watch.", Ellana said. "Even the Inquisition knew one of the remaining two dragons was near the Abyssal Rift in Western Approach, and surely Andruil's Wardens have located the second one as well."  
"It is worrying, yes, but there is nothing we can do at the moment.", Fen'Harel said firmly. "I have other news. Like we agreed in our last meeting, I have contacted the humans to negotiate a truce against the darkspawn. Divine Victoria is willing to continue our talks, but she wants to meet in flesh."  
"That is not a good idea.", Ellana said slowly.  
"I understand her reasons. She is not a mage, and Chantry teaches Fade is dangerous and unpredictable place full of temptations. I have agreed to her proposition to meet. I will go down to Val Royeaux in three days.", Fen'Harel said. "To keep our meeting private, we've agreed that I will send her the exact location in the Fade when she dreams on that night, and she proceeds to meet me there as soon as she wakes up."  
"It is not safe.", Ellana resisted. "You can't risk yourself like that."  
"I also tried to approach Tevinters.", Fen'Harel said. "But Dorian is shielded so tightly that I can't find him from the Fade. Cassandra said that she does not believe they would be open to any kind of alliance between us."  
"Alliance means we must get something out of it.", Mythal noted. "They require our help, but what is our price?"

The argument about alliance with humans took all day, and Ellana felt drained when the night fell and they were still sitting in the Chamber of Ruling. The conditions for negotiations were not finished, she abhorred the idea of letting Solas go down to meet Cassandra, and she was ready to fall asleep on her throne. She made a mental note for bringing cushions to make it more comfortable.  
"I think we must call it halt for today.", Mythal said finally. "We will meet again tomorrow."

 

\--Meanwhile in Thedas--

"I can't believe I'm doing this.", Anders groaned as he stepped out of his pants. "I swear, Varric, that if you ever write about this, I will kill you."  
"Don't look at me, Blondie.", Varric said, taking a swig from his pocket flask before he folded his shirt over a tree branch. "I prefer to write about others, not myself. We can keep this our dark secret. Think of the benefits. Senris promised that if we do this, Andruil will be cut down, and at this point, I'm willing to do anything to make her pay."  
"Even frolic naked on the moonlight to call elvhen gods?", Anders asked.  
"I'm getting naked, ain't I?", Varric replied. "I hope we got the right altar, however. I can't remember which one was Fen'Harel's, and it's impossible tell after Chantry wrecked them all. But I'm sure this is Ghilan'nain's Grove."  
"What if Senris was fooling us?", Anders asked suspiciously.  
"Nah. I know people. Guys like Senris don't have a sense of humor. Besides, you know elves. They are all weird. Frolicking naked in the moonlight is just the thing they'd do.", Varric reassured his companion. "Think of Merrill, for example."  
"She would have done it.", Anders admitted grudgingly.  
"There you have it.", Varric said and placed the book on the altar. "Let's get started, then."


	40. Family holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elgar'nan and his children have a family holiday.

There was a new ache inside her, a strange burning sensation which never went away. Siona knew something was terribly wrong with her. When she opened her eyes and looked at Falon'Din and the other man who had to be Dirthamen, her vision suddenly changed. She saw _inside_ their skin, the small veins where blood ran, and inside that, too. Watching the strange blobs and forms which made up the blood made her feel unwell, and there was a flash of light in the field of her vision. Papae reacted immediately, placing his hand in front of her eyes.  
"Dirthamen. Your sunglasses. I know you have them.", papae ordered.  
Grudgingly, her brother was persuaded to part with his accessory, and papae put them on her face. Siona saw there was a red mark on his palm, like a deep burn.  
"Now. Is it better?", Elgar'nan asked.  
Siona nodded.  
"It hurts, papae.", she said, sounding younger and a more pitiful than she wanted. But she had no strength left to be brave.  
"I know, princess.", Elgar'nan soothed her. "But you will eventually get used to it."  
"But I don't like seeing the blobs.", she said, being on verge of tears. "They make me nervous."  
"What is she talking about?", Dirthamen asked curiously.  
"It's nothing you need to be concerned about.", Elgar'nan said sternly.  
"Excuse me, father, but if you make a new god again, I have a right to be concerned.", Dirthamen's voice was sharp.  
"He didn't.", Siona turned in Elgar'nan's arms, looking at Dirthamen. "I'm _not_ a god, and there are blobs of blood in my vision."  
"There you have it. I would expect someone calling himself 'god of secrets' would make the simple connection between the signs of asphyxiation and bloody blobs.", Elgar'nan lifted his chin up, a very picture of annoyed arrogance.  
"Can we please go somewhere nicer to continue this discussion instead of sitting on melting snow? My robes are getting soaked, I'm tired, and it's freaking cold here.", Falon'Din whined.  
"I know a place to go.", Elgar'nan brightened. "It's a bit barbaric, but passable. Follow me, children."

 

As they stood and waited for twins to open the pathway through Fade, Siona looked at papae.  
_Need to talk,_ she signaled in sentinels' secret language. She had to ask about Senris, and the frightening thing she had met in the Void, and why she was burning from the inside, and what was wrong with her vision. But her brothers were here, and she wasn't sure if they could be trusted.  
Elgar'nan's eyebrows rose a fraction, and Siona realized he hadn't known that she could do this. When they had last met, she had been a little girl who had just began to play with a sword and bow. It had been over two years. Senris had said that she was a proper squire now, good enough to hold on her own in a fight. If she were a real sentinel, she would be ready to have her vallaslin.  
_Later. Not safe now._ , papae replied, his fingers pretending to brush snow off his robes.

 

\--

 

Even though he was the most powerful man in Tevinter, there were things even the Black Divine couldn't get away with. One of those unfortunate duties was escorting his mother and her cronies to Minrathous' most exclusive spa. Dorian had bad memories of the place, but like his mother said, one could progress his political goals more in steam room than in dreary temple of Maker.

Because he was Black Divine, he didn't have to suffer his torment alone, and therefore Dorian usually took his ward, Kieran, along to entertain Livia's friends. At their age, enjoying the sole attention of a young handsome man was rare enough to make them forget the little problems like Kieran's unknown origins. Dorian had kept his promise to dying Morrigan and brought her boy from Weisshaupt fortress as soon as nasty business with Arlathan rising was over. It had all worked out in the end. Kieran had easily learned the required snobbish arrogance Tevinters priced highly, and with little help, he had risen through the ranks of Imperial Chantry to esteemed position, serving Black Divine as his secretary. He kept Dorian's papers in good order, made the necessary appointments to keep Dorian's appearance as glorious as it was possible at age of 45, and was handsome and snarky. Excellent lad.

 

Dorian should have known something was wrong when he checked in the spa with Kieran and the elven receptionist had glazed look in his eyes. But his neck was aching from the stupid hat of Black Divine and wearing black leather made one sweat a ton in Tevinter climate. The representative of Maker on Thedas could not be smelly, and he deserved a day of pampering after wrangling the unruly priests all day long. Besides, his mother was always late.  
"Did you hear what I said?", Dorian repeated, looking at the slave.  
"I don't think so.", Kieran shook his head. Dorian's ward was fine young man, and excellent secretary.  
"I'm sorry, Your Holiness.", the receptionist bowed. "What did you require?"  
"A massage and a moustache trim. Lucille should do.", Dorian named the best hairdresser slave in Tevinter. It was rumored that magister Orellius had tried to buy her for two thousand gold pieces, but so far, nobody had made good enough offer to persuade the Renliuses to part with her.  
"I'm sorry, your holiness, but Lucille is unavailable. She is serving other customers."  
"What?", Dorian was aghast. "I come every week on this same hour for my moustache trim! I'm the Black Divine, for Maker's sake! Is the Archon trying to swap reservations again?"  
"There is nothing I can do, Your Holiness.", the receptionist said. "Lucille is not available today unless you ask her current patrons to step aside."  
"You can bet I will.", Dorian snapped and stomped in the dressing room.

 

When Kieran and Dorian entered the bathing area, it was full of naked elves. Only humans in sight were the bath assistants, who had the same glazed look in their eyes as the receptionist.  
"What's going on in here?", Kieran asked, astonished.  
"I have no idea.", Dorian replied. "No, wait. A very unpleasant memory is coming back to me."  
"Look. Lucille is there.", Kieran pointed at the edge of pool, where a nubile elf maiden laid on a divan. She was wearing nothing but sunglasses. Lucille was oiling her limbs with rose oil sprinkled with gold dust. The girl was obviously a gift from one magister to another or a courtesan favored by someone in magisterium. There was no other way for an elf to enter this place as a customer.  
"I like the looks of that one. I'm going to ask how much she costs.", Kieran remarked.

 

Siona was coming to conclusion that maybe shemlen had something worth preserving. She wondered why the shemlen didn't worship their Maker in a spa, since it was much nicer and better suited place than their ugly Chantry in Lothering. The bath facilities weren't as good as in Arlathan, of course, but getting her hair properly washed after years of blood, grime and boy braids felt exquisite.  
The hairdresser had tsked at the state of her hair and proceeded to cut off all the split ends after Siona had grown it back to proper length. Then she had proceeded to massage some tingly oil into her scalp, spreading it into her hair. Siona had bathed in lovely warm water and now she was enjoying a massage. The attendant was quite good in her work. When Dirthamen's spell of mass compulsion wore off, somebody should ask if she wanted to move to Arlathan.  
It was much easier to feel like a princess when one wasn't wearing a full plate armor and killing darkspawn or frost worms. She sighed with pleasure as her knotted muscles were teased soft by attendant's skilled fingers. This had been a splendid idea from papae.

Siona's relaxation was rudely interrupted by two shemlen men who wore odd little squares of fabric around their waists. The younger of them was staring at her quite offensively, and his loincloth looked oddly bulky. She didn't understand why. Maybe he was malformed?  
He said something which Siona didn't understand, but she suspected it was nothing good, because Venial was wading through the water towards them, looking absolutely furious.  
"Papae!", she raised her voice. "There is a very rude shemlen who keeps staring at me. I don't like it."

 

It was like watching a chariot crash. Dorian could feel the sense of inevitable doom lingering in the air when Kieran walked to elf maiden and asked how much money she wanted for a shag. The girl looked at them like she hadn't understood the question and raised her voice, shouting something in elvish. It was then when Dorian realized that most of the elves bathing in pools wore vallaslin, and they were advancing on Kieran, looking outraged. _His_ vallaslin. Oh, fuck.  
The steam room door opened and Elgar'nan strode out in his naked glory. He didn't look a day older than when Dorian had seen him last, fourteen years ago. Oh, how he hated the man!  
"We request permission to slay the brown-haired one, my lord.", a female elf dripping water addressed Elgar'nan in trade tongue. "He just asked our little lady her price."  
Elgar'nan's expression changed from mild displeasure to positively murderous.  
"Your depravity knows no bounds, shemlen.", he growled at Kieran. "I knew your kind was repulsive, but preying on innocent _children?_ How you _dare_ to lay your eyes on my daughter?"  
Dorian wanted to howl. He slammed his magic around Kieran, emptying his mana reserves in one blow trying to shield his ward from Elgar'nan's wrath, but it happened just like their first encounter years ago. Elgar'nan's magic cut through his shields with ridiculous ease. Dorian lifted up his arm to protect his eyes from the impossible bright ray of light shooting at Kieran, and grimaced as he heard poor man's howls.  
"My eyes! They hurt! Aah!", the poor man screamed.  
"And then his tongue.", Elgar'nan said darkly. "He will never again proposition anyone. Boys!"

Dorian paled as the steam room door opened again, and more naked elves came in. Two young men, identical enough to look like mirror images of each other.  
"What is it, father?", the one standing on left asked.  
"The spell you used to silence people. The _nasty_ one.", Elgar'nan said, pointing at Kieran. "Put it on that barbarian. He's a child molester who dared to insult your sister."  
"No, no, no!", Dorian screamed, moving to stand in front of Kieran. "He didn't mean anything! I swear, he didn't know the girl was yours. He was horribly mistaken, and begs for mercy."  
"I don't like mercy.", Elgar'nan said. "Children, this is my bound slave, Alas. And what are you doing here, Alas?"  
"What are you doing here?", Dorian repeated. " _You_ are not supposed to be here at all. Go back where you came from!"  
Elgar'nan laughed. It was beautiful sound, and Dorian hated him for it.  
"We are having a holiday. I got the idea from one of the books you purchased. I understood that shemlen like to travel somewhere and have a weekend of relaxation and bonding between family members?"  
Kieran was curled into a ball on the floor behind Dorian, his hands trying to shield his ruined eyes.  
Dorian wanted his templars. Lots, lots of templars. Where were they? Certainly not where they were needed. Outrageous. But as it were, only thing he had was his quick wits and delightful charm.  
"If you keep killing people, you won't have a nice holiday.", he said quickly. " _You_ might like wading in blood, but your little one looks a bit upset already, and there are much better things to do in Tevinter than kill templars, magisters, or erroneous youngsters."  
"Like what?", Elgar'nan asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He was not convinced.  
"Shopping.", one of the twins said. "They have the most decadent black silks in Tevinter."  
"And leather.", the other twin added. "Fanim and Hamal would look much better if they wore long leather coats."  
"There you have it. Shopping.", Dorian offered desperately. "I'm the Black Divine. I know all the best shops."

Dorian knew from the look on Elgar'nan's face that the god of Vengeance was not going to accept, and he was racking through his mind to invent something, anything, when the door of women's dressing room opened and his mother glided in. Livia Pavus took one look at situation, and a delighted smile spread on her face.  
"Oh, my lord Elgar'nan! How lovely to meet you again! I have to say, you have not aged for a single day since we met last. I keep asking Dorian to invite you to my manor, but he always finds some excuse. Now that you are here, you must enjoy my hospitality! We will throw a party for your honor!"  
Elgar'nan was taken aback, but his wrath seemed to lessen a bit when he recognized Livia.  
"You were the intelligent woman who understood her place in society with unordinary clarity, and recommended the excellent Randy Dowager when I first woke up!", Elgar'nan smiled dazzlingly. "You are my favorite shemlen!"  
"You are too kind, my lord.", Livia blushed. "Please, I'm sure that our palace is modest compared to your usual surroundings, but it would delight me to no end if you and your companions would grace my little soiree with your presence. Nobody in Tevinter can claim to have hosted a party with elvhen Creator as a guest of honor. Who are your companions, if I might ask?"  
"You may.", Elgar'nan allowed regally. "This is my eldest son, Dirthamen, and my younger son, Falon'Din. And my daughter, Siona. The rest are my sworn swords."  
"How beautiful children you have!", Livia clapped her hands together. "After our last meeting, I have acquired my very own publishing house, and I would be delighted to gift you with copies of our latest novels. They got ten fluttering scarves from Randy Dowager, and the book trade between Tevinter and Arlathan is rather slow. We need to work on that."  
Elgar'nan was hooked, and poor Kieran was forgotten. Dorian watched with deepening desperation as God of Vengeance agreed to spend a weekend as his mother's guest at Dorian's childhood home.

 

"Are you mad, mother?", Dorian hissed when Elgar'nan left to send one of his sentinels to acquire items for extended stay from Arlathan. Poor Kieran had been taken away by bath assistants before Elgar'nan remembered his existence. "You can't invite elvhen gods to your estate for a weekend."  
"I think I just did, dear.", Livia said, looking well pleased with herself. "My party will be the talk of court for months to come! Archon's wife will simply die of envy."  
"I'm the Black Divine, mother. And we are at war with elves!"  
"I know. It's perfect. The flavor of unknown danger makes wonders to party atmosphere.", Livia sighed happily.  
"You don't get it, mother. Last time Elgar'nan went to court, he killed them all! Have you forgotten Orlesians and Emperor Gaspard?"  
"Of course I haven't. The thing is, Dorian, that you and most of our fellow Tevinters are wrong. You have tried to eradicate elves, and clearly it is not working. If Elgar'nan is comfortable enough to bring his children to have a holiday in Minrathous, it's because he knows we can't win against him. No parent would put his children willingly into danger, and it's clear that he just dotes on his youngest. If one can't win, one should ally instead.", Livia said calmly. "I can think of dozens business propositions I could make to elves! The trade possibilities!"  
Her eyes steeled as she looked at Dorian.  
"And if even one templar, priest, or badly behaving mage tries to ruin my party, Dorian, I will hold you personally responsible. You might be Black Divine, but I am your mother. If something goes wrong, God of Vengeance is the least of your worries."

 

"Be on your guard.", Venial said quietly to Siona as the entourage left the spa. "This is less safe than Sunless Lands. The shemlen are circling us like vultures, and only way to win is show no weakness. Remember what happened to your mother."  
Siona nodded. She straightened her posture and took the position behind Elgar'nan which belonged to Senris. The sentinels arranged themselves to follow her, and soon they fell to familiar pattern of surveying the environment and reporting the possible threats to her by little tugs of magic. She knew that her brothers and shemlen were following the spell, but it didn't matter. Spotting five faint brushes of mana against her left shoulder told nothing since they didn't know which area the sending sentinel was watching, or what five meant in their code language.  
"So this is what you plan to do with your life.", Dirthamen stated as he moved to walk beside Siona.  
"What do you mean?", she asked.  
"This. Playing a sentinel."  
"Please don't.", Siona said. "I don't know you, brother, but please, I don't want to play games with you. I don't want to belong to your pantheon, and I don't want to be your enemy. Why can't we be friends instead?"  
Dirthamen was clearly taken aback by her plea.  
"I missed you both when I was little. Papae had a painting on his wall, and a box filled with your old toys. I thought that when you came back home, you would play with me and teach me all kinds of wonderful things like brothers do. Why can't we have that?", she asked miserably.  
"I.. I have to think of it.", Dirthamen said, sounding a lot less cocky and confident than a moment ago. In quieter voice, he asked:  
"You know what I did to mother? I have been unwell. Spending time with me might not be smart."  
"And I died.", Siona replied. "I'm not sure if I'm feeling any better than you, so I don't care."  
"We're both fucked up, then.", Dirthamen shrugged lightly.  
"What does it mean?", Siona asked.  
"Being fucked up?"  
"Yes."  
"Well, it's a root word for a level of status, used in reference to being damaged in some way. Whether physically, like having an injury, or mentally, or performance-wise..", Dirthamen began explaining the finer points of vulgar Elvish to his uneducated little sister.

 

Elgar'nan was not impressed by Minrathous. During last decade, it had only detoriated more, and in his opinion, the buildings had been crude to begin with. When they reached Pavus palace, the best compliment he could come up with was 'quaint'. The problem was, Elgar'nan thought, that the humans had tried to impersonate Elvhenan but they didn't understand the marriage between nature and magic. Dead stone was just that. Dead. After few thousand years, only a ugly ruin remained.  
"Do you have suitable quarters for me and the children? My youngest needs to rest if she is going to stay awake for your party.", Elgar'nan inquired. "Two suites will do. After the accident in spa, I prefer to keep her where I can see her."  
"Of course.", lady Pavus nodded eagerly. "My slaves are naturally at your disposal."  
"If your party is success, we might discuss trade agreements tomorrow.", Elgar'nan allowed. "When my sentinel arrives with our clothes, I expect he is promptly guided to our rooms. As you know, perfection requires dedication."  
Livia Pavus nodded, her dark eyes shrewd behind the polite smile. The shemlen woman wanted to impress her guests with her daring and her exotic guests, and Elgar'nan was sure she would be willing to give a lot for dazzling her countrymen. He smiled. They understood each other perfectly.

 

Siona was exhausted when she crawled into strange shemlen bed, wearing a borrowed nightshirt made of black silk. Tevinters did not seem to wear any other colors.  
"It still burns, papae.", she said quietly when sentinels had left the room and Elgar'nan had cast the wards.  
Papae looked sad when he laid down on the other side of the bed, leaning against his elbow.  
"Come here, little one.", he said, and Siona hid against his chest. Everything that had happened felt less frightening when papae held her. She was frightened of Senris, but missed him, too, and the conflicting emotions hurt almost as much as the odd feeling inside her.  
"I will explain you everything when we get back home.", he promised. "But I need you to play a game tonight. "  
"I think I'm getting good at pretending. Senris told me to pretend to be a boy."  
Elgar'nan smiled and combed her hair behind her ear with his fingers.  
"I must ask from sentinels of all things you have done. You have grown so much while I slept. But tonight, princess, we are going to shemlen party. They don't think much of elves. I need you to be haughty and arrogant. More extravagant you are, better it will be. But stay with your brothers, and don't go anywhere alone. It is not safe here."  
"I'm not sure if it's safe anywhere.", Siona said sadly. "I miss Senris."

She curled against papae, trying to fall asleep, but it was hard. Shemlen bed was springy and the canopy was pretentious.  
"Papae.", she said after short silence. "Why shemlen furniture looks so macabre? I would think that seeing these things would keep them up all night, weeping angrily?"  
"I don't know.", Elgar'nan admitted. "Their idea of beauty is quite pompous."  
"I hope Lisel hasn't misplaced all my nice things while I was gone.", Siona said. She was worried. "She is awful with puzzles."  
"Your little desire spirit?"  
"She pretended to be me, and I pretended to be you.", Siona told Elgar'nan. "I was very good. I looked down at my nose at people and snapped my fingers, and the guards just opened the gates for us to ride through eluvian."  
Elgar'nan looked mildly disturbed for the idea.  
"I think I need to have a talk with gate guards.", he said. "I didn't think you were that good."  
"I was, papae.", Siona said smugly.  
"One day when I wake up, you've been sitting on my throne and making decisions for me all day long.", Elgar'nan tickled her. He knew she had a weak spot between her ribs. "It will be marvelous! You can do my job, and I can just lay in the hammock and read. You will be king of Elvhenan. I will put you to Chamber of Ruling too, and nobody will notice anything. How splendid."  
Siona was giggling and trying to roll away.  
"No, papae! You can't do it."  
"I'm Eldest of the Sun, da'len. I can do anything I want.", Elgar'nan threatened, attacking again.  
Siona slammed down her shields, just like Senris had taught, and stuck her tongue out when her evil papae touched the shield instead of her side.  
"That's good, but not good enough.", Elgar'nan chuckled. "Take the sunglasses off and look."  
Siona did as she was told, and her eyes widened when she saw light traveling from Elgar'nan's core to his fingertips. They shone with the essence of sun, and the light cut through her barrier like it was warm butter.  
The tickling which ensued made Siona scream and giggle until tears ran from her eyes, and she forgot the sunglasses entirely. It was well and good until she rubbed the water off her eyes and looked at pompous shemlen canopy. It went up in flames.

 

"Why do we have to share with a baby?", Falon'Din complained when Siona crawled into bed between them.  
"You heard what father said. Their room is filled with smoke.", Dirthamen said, undisturbed. "Besides, you already saw she can't be left alone anywhere in this place."  
"Since when you have done anything what father wants?", Falon'Din began, but Siona interrupted him.  
"Dirthamen, what did that rude shemlen in the spa say? I asked Veniel, but she just changed subject, Llowyn got mad, and I don't think that asking papae would be good idea."  
"He was asking you to change sexual favors for money.", Dirthamen said.  
"What does that mean?"  
Falon'Din cackled.  
"Next thing you'll tell is that you believe that children come from color-coded eggs.", he said.  
"But they do.", Siona said, not understanding what was so fun. "At least you were born that way, because Mythal is a dragon. I'm not entirely sure about me, because spirits kept calling me a pup when I was in Fade with Fen'Harel."  
Dirthamen pursed his lips.  
"I think it's insensible to ask you to beware something you don't even understand.", God of Secrets informed his little sister. "It will eventually lead to disaster."  
"Really? I've lost count on how many youngsters we led on an egg hunt.", Falon'Din snorted. "They are the easiest prey, and the shock was always hilarious."  
"What shock?", Siona was fully awake now. She didn't like the idea of having any more shocks.  
"The shock when--"  
"We should start from the beginning.", Dirthamen interrupted his twin. "The elvhen reproduction has nothing to do with eggs, spirits or anything you have been told, but it is simply a biological process which.."

"That is just disgusting.", Siona said when Dirthamen had finished his very long and detailed explanation of how babies were actually made, what it meant to offer money for sexual favors, and what she should do to people who made such propositions. Falon'Din had offered practical insight, although Siona wasn't entirely convinced that even half of the things he claimed to have done were reasonable or physically possible. She was seeing Mythal biting papae in entirely new light, now, and she didn't like it.  
"Why do people do it, if it's as slimy as you claim?", she asked unhappily.  
"It's fun.", Falon'Din replied lazily.  
"Worms are slimy, but they are not fun. Besides, if you have done it as many times as you claim, where are all your babies?", Siona demanded.  
Falon'Din remembered the Kossith incident, and a faint blush rose to his cheeks.  
"There are spells to keep that from happening.", he said, trying to sound dignified. "Except you shouldn't rely on them if you are drunk, and bedding a giantess."  
"Why would you stick your penis inside a giantess?", Siona frowned. "Shouldn't a giantess be entirely too big for it? I mean proportionally."  
"Partial shape shifting.", Dirthamen said in deadpan voice.  
"Yuck.", Siona said, thoroughly disgusted. "I think I'll just stick to kneeing the shemlen. Senris taught me how. It's much easier with armor, so I'll ask papae if I can borrow it again."  
"It would be best, yes.", Dirthamen nodded. "But do you understand why you must not go anywhere alone with shemlen? They have no concept of aging. You look like an adult to them, and they find elves attractive."  
"I do. But I have to sleep now. Kicking all those magisters will be exhausting.", Siona said gloomily and pulled the covers to her chin. Having big brothers was very enlightening, and she was quite angry at sentinels for not telling her why she had to pretend to be a boy for two years. Falon'Din had explained that some people liked boys, so it wasn't any safer, and Olaus had almost ruined her hair with those dagger haircuts.

 

She slipped easily in the Fade and decided to seek out Fen'Harel. The entire thing was his fault. She had told him about color-coded eggs, and he had not corrected it. A very nice spirit of Rage helped her and took her through the green plains to Fen'Harel.  
"You are lousy father and bad hahren.", Siona announced as she approached. "Why you never told me that babies do not come from eggs, or I'm not a pup? I had to ask from Dirthamen! He is the only one who tells me these things."  
She felt a brush of a probing spell, and Fen'Harel turned pale as a sheet.  
"Siona."  
"Don't Siona me. You owe me lots of things! I know you are supposed to provide me with education, but if you don't correct even the most basic mistakes, I will never learn _anything_.", she yelled. "I feel stupid, and it's _your fault_."  
"I thought you were dead.", Fen'Harel whispered.  
"I was!", Siona glared at him. It felt good to shout at someone. "I don't have anything to wear, and I've borrowed Venial's undergarments for last two years, and your protection has been utter crap! I died! If I have to kill my own enemies, you could buy me a sword, at least! I swear, I will ask grandfather to sue you!"  
She stuck her tongue out and made an ugly face at Fen'Harel before she whirled around, letting papae's red cloak to billow dramatically, and stomped away.

Dread Wolf, of course, ran after her. Siona held her chin high and ignored him completely. She was really mad about egg thing. Siona had wanted to make a good impression on her brothers, and now they thought her as a stupid baby.  
It took a long time until her anger ebbed away, and finally she said:  
"I'm still angry at you, Dread Wolf. I hate feeling stupid."  
"I'm sorry.", he said, looking honest. "I should have corrected you. I made a mistake. I thought your childish beliefs were sweet, and you should be allowed to keep them as long as you could."  
"There is nothing sweet in being lied to.", Siona said sharply. "Don't ever do it again, or I will set grandfather after you."  
"Will you tell me what happened?", Fen'Harel asked. "We looked for you. We searched through Ferelden, but we only found a grave from Korcari Wilds. A boy called Elandrin said he had buried you under a tree."  
"Elandrin?", Siona asked, pleasantly surprised. "Did he survive? What about the baby?"'  
"We found a boy and his little sister from a hut in the wilds.", Fen'Harel said carefully.  
"She must have grown up, then.", Siona smiled. "It's good to know they didn't die. I stole them from darkspawn."  
"How?"  
"I saw them torturing the baby, so I sneaked there and killed them. Then I grabbed Elandrin and the baby and ran away. Senris was furious, because I was supposed to stay inside the wards.", Siona explained factually.  
"But you said you died.", Fen'Harel said.  
Siona closed her eyes behind sunglasses for a moment, considering what to say.  
"Dread Wolf.", she said slowly. "I can't tell you what happened. Please do not ask. They are not my secrets to tell, and I want nasty things to end. I didn't like it when you and mamae broke our temple and my room and all my things. It was mean. And I didn't like when mamae tried to take me away, or when Andruil poisoned papae. If you try to ask things, or make me tell, we can't be friends. I mean it."  
"You drive a hard bargain.", Fen'Harel said, crossing his hands behind his back. "Try to understand my side of this, da'len. I've believed you dead for two years. We spent six months searching for you in vain. Then you just appear in the Fade and throw a tantrum for a thing which, although important, is quite minor compared fact you said you died. I am willing to honor your demands, but I need more than that. Could you tell me where you are? Or if you are coming back? You mentioned Dirthamen."  
"All right.", Siona said carefully. "I can tell you something. Everything is fine. I died, but Falon'Din brought me back. Papae got better, too, and then we all went on a holiday. First we went to a spa which was quite nice expect for one rude shemlen but papae blinded him, so he stopped staring. We have been invited to a party later today, and tomorrow we're going to go shopping. And then we'll go back to Arlathan, I guess. I think I like my brothers, and they are very enlightening, because they actually tell me things unlike _some people._ ", she glared at Fen'Harel.  
"You certainly know how to hold a grudge.", he noted. "Must have inherited it from your mother's side of family. Probably from Abelas."  
"I need you to teach me how to impress shemlen without trying. Papae says I have to pretend to be haughty, arrogant and extravagant.", Siona counted with her fingers. "You promised to oversee my education, personally. Grandfather explained all the details of Mythal's judgement for me. So it's your job."  
Fen'Harel considered her request.  
"How much time we have?"  
"Not much. I'm having a nap. Can you teach me, or do I have to ask Dirthamen about this too?"  
Fen'Harel snorted.  
"Dirthamen was never particularly good at parties. In my day, I was much better. I can't teach you everything in such short notice, but there are few tricks which are quick to master. Let's begin with demonstration. I know few memories of the Fade which are perfect for this..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you want spoilers for Livia Pavus' party? It's combination of these two videos.  
> https://youtu.be/DB0i3U2U49w  
> and  
> https://youtu.be/UD7ulPlAFq0
> 
> And just because I spent ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out how a female version of Elgar'nan aka adult Siona would actually look, you get a tutorial. Beauty is hard work, and you can't go to Tevinter party looking like you died yesterday.  
> https://youtu.be/Y6eepTCt1qE


	41. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siona learns the downside of having big brothers.
> 
> Falon'Din invents a new version of elvhen culture to suit his goals.
> 
> Dorian has a new secretary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Minrathous catacombs is "Something for What Ails You" from Snow White OST.  
> https://youtu.be/OAvxQydhqXw
> 
> I switched word processors. The new one has horrible statistics: it told me that I've spent 55776 minutes on this fic, and it was before today's chapter. Adding 324 more.

Elgar'nan had forgotten how trying it was to raise children through this stage, and that having three children made everything much more difficult than having just one. This particular crisis started with a sound of ripping fabric coming from the children's room.  
"I told you it was too tight!", Falon'Din roared with laughter. "Behold! The little princess of Arlathan ripped her party dress because she's too fat for it!"  
"Shut up!", Siona screamed. "I'm not fat, you son of a dragon bitch!"  
"Oo, baby is growing teeth, now.", Falon'Din mocked. "Will you come to party in borrowed armour, then? Or sentinel long johns? I doubt anything else can fit over those shoulders of yours. You're broad like a barn door!"  
"I'm not! You look like half-starved willow!", Siona's voice was shrill enough to hurt Elgar'nan's ears.  
"It's certainly better than looking like you.", Falon'Din said. "Poor thing. Since you died, you're stuck like that forever. All lanky muscles and no tits to speak of. You're the ugliest little duckling I've ever seen. You have to get a qunari tailor to make your clothes for you. Otherwise they'll just rip, like this one."  
"I'll show you what rips.” Siona snarled, and Elgar'nan decided it was time to monitor the situation.

When Elgar'nan pushed the door open for a fraction, he saw Siona launching herself on Falon'Din. She was fast, vicious, and entirely ruthless. It had been eons since anyone had dared to challenge God of Death in physical combat, so Falon'Din was entirely unprepared for Siona wrapping her hand around his chest and neck. She swung her legs forward, using her momentum to pull Falon'Din down on the floor with her. With smooth move, she pulled her arm free, and jumped on lady Pavus' dressing table, only to dive down onto Falon'Din with her elbow cocked. She drove it into Falon'Din's head with sickening crunch.  
"Aargh! You flaming bastard!” Falon'Din yelled, his words interrupted by Siona slamming her head against his face. He cast a spell, force of it sending Siona crashing against the wall. She answered by changing her form. Elgar'nan just stared as a little black dragon screamed and spit electricity on Falon'Din as his paralysis spell bounced off her skin. Falon'Din's next spell, a disintegration, was actually harmful but Dirthamen dispelled it before it hit the little dragon.  
"Whose side you are on, brother?” Falon'Din demanded angrily, staring at Dirthamen. His mouth was bleeding, staining his teeth red, and he looked furious.  
Wasting no time, Siona was going for Falon'Din again. Elgar'nan opened the door fully and grabbed the dragonling by neck when she sprinted past him. It screeched at him furiously, but could not escape from headlock.  
"Falon'Din.", Elgar'nan said sharply. "You have been adult for over nine thousand years. If I see this kind of scene again, I will expel you from the pantheon. You are supposed to be an example to Elvhen, not a teenage bully fighting with da'len. If she had a sword, she would have killed you by surprise before you cast your first spell. I expect you to fix this. You will appear at my court in three months’ time, and if you last less than two rounds against me in training circle, you are unfit to go to war.   You will not try to disintegrate your sister ever again. Or call her 'a flaming bastard'."  
"And you.” he addressed the dragon he was still holding by a neck. "You will never again call Mythal 'a dragon bitch'. You also severely underestimated your opponent. Falon'Din could have harmed you seriously with magic--"  
"I would have killed her.", Falon'Din interrupted.  
"Shut up.", Elgar'nan snapped. "I'm not finished. Siona, you should never pick a fight you can't win. If you have to charge on somebody much stronger and older than you, you have to be sure you beat him quick enough. Next time, choose a weapon or a death spell instead of a head butt. You are not good enough to be showy. Yet."  
He dropped the little dragon down on the floor. It made a pitiful noise and crawled to hide under his bed.  
"That was it?” Falon'Din stared at Elgar'nan. "Where was the punishment for injuring a Creator? I've seen you kill people for taking a form of a dragon, and now you are reprimanding her for not killing me!"  
"I think you should be quiet in this matter, brother.” Dirthamen advised. "You did call her fat and ugly. Even though she looks just like father. Not a good idea."  
"Thank you, Dirthamen.” Elgar'nan said, leaning against the door frame. "It is comforting to see you acting as a voice of reason. What it tells of Falon'Din and Siona, I shudder to question."  
"You are never going to forgive me about Mythal, are you?” Dirthamen asked dryly.  
"No.", Elgar'nan replied. "But I might forget it. Eventually."

 

 

\--

 

The sentinels were crouching by Elgar'nan's bed, trying to lure the dragon out.  
"Come out, little one.” Venial cooed. "You will be late from the party."  
"You can't stay there forever.” Llowyn added.  
"Come out. Your brother was wrong.” Venial said. "Falon'Din doesn't know anything about women or what's beautiful. I've told you thousand times; you are not lumpy. Muscles are not lumps. And you aren't certainly fat."  
The dragon wasn't convinced. It didn't budge; it hissed at them instead.  
Venial looked at Llowyn.  
"I don't know how Senris did this.” she said with resignation.  
"I don't know either.” Llowyn shook his head. "One more reason to hunt down and kill his murderer. On third?"  
Venial nodded.

 

Dragon screeched as the sentinels pulled it out from its hiding place. Venial carried the tail end, and Llowyn the head. They marched into dressing room, where Elgar'nan was trying to choose between a black brocade coat and amber robes with orange embroidery.  
"I'm sorry, my lord, but this isn't working.” Venial said gloomily. "She is stubborn."  
"What do you usually do?” Elgar'nan asked, not understanding why he was suddenly being bothered by a domestic problem. It never happened before.  
"We do nothing, my lord. Senris deals with these.” Llowyn said.  
"Of course.” Elgar'nan sighed, turning around. He considered the dragon with appraising eye. It wasn't much bigger than panthers in Seheron jungle. It had freakishly large wings compared to rest of its body and its skin was covered with perfect, gleaming black scales. The tips of dragon's wings paled from black to iridescent blue, and the little snout was just adorable. Dragon's eyes were huge and blue, and it was stubbornly staring at Venial's boots to avoid Elgar'nan's glance.  
"This has to be the cutest dragon I've ever seen.” Elgar'nan decreed, trying not to laugh. All followers of a god shared his chosen form of divine. His own dragon form, an enormous black creature called Black Death, had once been known and feared all around Elvhenan. He had certainly not expected it would spurn variation looking like this.  
"I know, my lord.” Venial smiled. "But she does not like people pointing it out. Lady Siona was convinced that once she mastered the form, she would be magnificent and look like the rest of us. But it didn't work that way."  
Of course it didn't. A dragon form was reflection of one's spirit and mental maturity, and Elgar'nan was rapidly coming to conclusion that his daughter's true nature was something quite different from the rest of his household.  
"She calmed down after Senris took her to hunt and pointed out that her form was excellent lure. Even rams came to stare at her. She had no need to chase anything.” Llowyn mentioned.  
"Very practical.” Elgar'nan said. "But we are going to be late from the party. More than fashionable late, I mean. Change back.” he commanded.  
The dragon made a weepy sound, but it started to shift.  
"I will find her a dress.” Venial said, and Llowyn slipped away after her.

 

Siona's face was streaked with tears. She was sure there was a huge bruise on her back, and she really didn't want to go to shemlen party where everyone would laugh at her.  
"I'm terribly sorry I grew up so ugly.” she whispered.  
"What?” papae's expression was comical.  
"It's true, what Falon'Din said.” Siona said, her voice breaking. "I know you wanted to have a beautiful child. You like beautiful things, and then I turned out like this. You must be terribly disappointed, papae. I'm so sorry. "  
She couldn't hold it anymore. All those years away from home she had thought that once they got back the essence of sun and saved papae, it would be all right. Things would be back the way they were, and everybody would be happy. But Senris was gone, and she missed him although she was frightened of him, too. She had died, and papae had to come all way to Sunless lands for her. She didn't get to save him, and it went all wrong.  
There was gnawing pain inside her body all the time and she kept seeing inside people. It was horrible. To add insult to injury, Falon'Din had confirmed she was ugly, just like she had feared. And she was stupid, too, for not knowing about egg thing. Siona had always thought it would be nice to have brothers, but they thought she was a stupid, ugly baby.  
So she sat down on the floor, hid her face against her knees, and burst into desperate tears.

Elgar'nan was genuinely perplexed. He usually prided himself for having a good understanding on people and their motivations - whether he cared about their opinions was another matter entirely - but he had not foreseen this. Of his three children, she was the loveliest, and Elgar'nan had been mostly concerned on how to keep people away from his daughter.  
"Princess.", he said, picking her up and putting her down on his lap. "What are you talking about?"  
"You know what I'm talking about! I'm so fat that I ripped my dress. I have to get a qunari tailor like Falon'Din said.” she wept. "I'm too tall and lumpy. And my nose is pointy."  
"There is nothing wrong with your nose.” Elgar'nan said. "It's just like mine, and my nose is perfect. If you wanted to see a terrible nose, look at Fen'Harel."  
"It looks perfect on you, but on me, it's just pointy.” Siona disagreed. "My eyes are too big and my mouth is too small. Growing up was horrible and it made me vomit, and then I ended up being ugly, and now Falon'Din says I'm stuck like this _forever_. It's not fair. And my hair is still horrible. The shemlen conditioner does not work."  
"Only thing I agree on is that your hair requires better care.” Elgar'nan said firmly. "We need to do something about it. But there is nothing wrong with you. You are not ugly. Shemlen are ugly, and dwarves look like someone smashed their noses against stone, but you look nothing like hairy barbarian or durgen’len. You are the loveliest of my children, and Falon’Din is only baiting you because he is jealous. Any other concerns, princess?"  
"People will think I'm stupid.” she said in shaking voice. "I don't know anything else but how to kill things, and I used to think I was somewhat good in that, but I'm not because I _died_. Senris killed me and I tried to stop him, but I couldn't. I tried but I wasn't good enough. I don't think I'm good at anything, papae. You should have let me stay dead."  
Elgar'nan closed his eyes. He cast a wards against eavesdropping around them and asked in quiet voice the question he could no longer postpone:  
"Siona, what happened after the fight with Andruil?"  
"You turned grey and cold, and Mythal could not heal you. We sat by your bed, and you couldn't hear us.” Siona said in small voice. "Senris came to take me to bed, except he didn't. He took me to inner sanctum where sentinels and priests waited, and told me that you were dying. He said that someone had to bring back the essence of sun for you, and the sentinels were too old. I promised to do it, so you would live. I had to save you, papae."  
"And then?” he asked, trying very hard to keep his calm.  
"Then they put me into holy pool and priests made me grow up. Senris said I had to be taller so I could pretend to be you and get us through the gates, and to fight. It wasn't enough for first time, so they had to do it twice.” Siona swallowed. It was hard to get the words out, and she hated remembering the pool. "The second time was enough, except I almost drowned into pool and just screamed when Senris pulled me up. Everything hurt from sounds to touch and I thought I was going mad. They put your armor on me and it helped."

She recounted the whole tale of their journey to Sunless Lands. Darkspawn, Lovenna's death, fights against beasts and barbarians and templars, and finally what had happened on the edge of Void.  
Elgar'nan fought the overwhelming urge to kill all his sentinels, and priests, too. He didn't care whether their reasons had been good; the child he was holding was _a mess_.  
"..Then Senris said he was very sorry and took a hold on my shoulders.” Siona was trying to fight tears. "He cut off my air, and I tried to fight back, but he was too strong. Why did he do it, papae? I love Senris. We all do. I told him that he is our Senris, and I don't care about him being a Forgotten One, but he still killed me, and I failed. I wasn't good enough. I fell into dark, and there was something in there. Big and frightening thing which spoke to me and touched me, telling me to embrace the light. It rambled about children and the Maker. I've been hurting ever since, and it does not go away even though I tried to put a healing spell on it."  
She buried her face against Elgar'nan's neck and wept.

"Siona.", papae said, and his voice was unlike she had ever heard. It was fragile, and he didn't sound old at all. "You died, and went to Void. When I built the prison for my father, I needed a price which would be too high to pay. The lure of power would have been impossible to resist otherwise. Only way to enter his prison in the Void is to give up something truly irreplaceable."  
"What does irreplaceable mean?” she asked.  
"Something you can never get back, although the loss of it is too much to bear. Something you love. That was why Senris killed you. He knew the price.” papae held her so tightly it hurt.  
"But it should not have worked.” Siona said, not understanding. "I'm here now. I'm alive."  
"Not truly, princess. Not like you were.” papae's voice was sad. "Falon'Din brought you back, but he could not hold you. You were gone, little one. I couldn't bear it. I gave you a part of sun's essence, just enough to keep you by my side. Whether it was a gift or a curse... I don't know."  
Clearing his throat, Elgar'nan tried to find the right words.  
"You will never change, Siona. Your body will never grow up, or be able to bear children. You won't grow old, or die. There will be no sweet forgetfulness of uthenera for you, even when the years weigh on your shoulders and you wish to end it all. Even the most grievous injuries won't kill you. You will always be like you are now. Frozen in the moment of your death."  
"I don't understand why this makes you so sad.” Siona said. "I didn't want to do the slimy thing anyway. It sounds very gross. If I want babies, I can have a ready-made one, like you did."  
Papae shook his head, and there were tears in his eyes.  
"You don't understand it yet, little one.” he said. "I pray you won't curse my name the day you do."  
"Papae.", Siona said. "I need an honest answer. What happened to Senris? Did you kill him?"  
Elgar'nan shook his head again.  
"I don't know for certain. I felt your death, but it was Senris who woke me up. He prayed for my help, and I could feel him twisting. He was in agony, screaming and howling. And then the bindings just broke."  
Siona paled. She knew that twisting was very, very bad thing. All elvhen were taught that twisting from one's original purpose never ended well. Dirthamen had twisted and killed Mythal. Andruil had twisted and brought forth the destruction of Elvhenan. But Senris was much older and more powerful than either of them.  
"What happened to him, papae?” she asked again. "What is he now? Despair? From Faith to Despair?"  
"Presumably.” Elgar'nan admitted. "To be honest, da'len, if Senris joins the Forgotten Ones, I'm not sure we can win the war. They have endless numbers of darkspawn by their side, while we have little over twenty thousand elvhen, most of them mortal or children."  
Siona pursed her lips.  
"Then I will go and get him back.” she said, making up her mind.  
Elgar'nan opened his mouth to speak, but Siona put her finger on his lips.  
"Listen, papae. We need Senris. For the war, yes, but other things, too. The household just doesn't work without him. If he was here, I would have gotten a dress of right size, and as soon as crying started, he would have brought the ugly blanket and sent for chocolate chili ice cream. These things are important. He said it was his nature that he has to be needed by someone. We need him more than Forgotten Ones do.", she said firmly. "You just said I can't die, and it was my murder which twisted him and broke him. If I go to him and tell I forgive him, for real, he will change back, and everything will be the way it is supposed to be."  
Elgar'nan did not want to consider her suggestion, but it was well-argued. Even if it reminded him of the Dread Wolf. Accursed genetics.  
"It could actually work.” he said slowly and reluctantly.  
"It would.” Siona faced him with resoluteness which wasn't childish at all. "You know it would. If I were older and someone else, you would agree."  
"You are thirteen, and my daughter.” Elgar'nan pointed out. "I have good reasons not to let you even entertain this idea."  
"We can't give up on Senris. He didn't give up on you.” Siona stated. "I want to be happy. I'm _tired_ of others wrecking our temple and things and people I love. It has to stop."  
Elgar’nan shook his head, taking Siona’s face between his hands.  
“I will do my best to save Senris, little one, but you don’t understand what you are asking. You have already done one madly dangerous journey, and I forbid you to leave my side to do this.” he said, his voice unyielding. “If Forgotten Ones ever got their hands on you, it would be thousand times worse than anything you have experienced so far. You can’t die, but you can be hurt, and Geldauran would hurt you because of me. Spirits have been broken for less. You are not old enough, you are not skilled enough, and you are not ready. I’m not ready to let you out of my sight. Saving everyone is not your burden to bear.”  
Seeing tears glistening in her eyes again, Elgar’nan softened his tone a bit.  
“Siona, you have done enough. You have done more than anyone could ask from you. When I find Senris, I will tell him you forgive him, and I promise I will do everything I can to give you a chance to speak with him. But this is not your fight. You don’t have to be brave anymore. I will take you home where you can grow up in peace. You will have your books and toys and your little desire spirit to play with. Everything will be fine.”

All that crying had made her head hurt, and the burn inside her seemed only to be getting worse. There was a window behind papae, and a flock of little red birds flew past it. But she didn’t see them. She saw through them, the blood running inside them and the little blobs which made it all up, and it filled Siona with dreadful feeling. When she closed her eyes, she saw a jagged aura of dancing blobs. When Venial came to knock on the door, she opened her eyes again and startled when she saw only a shining light where there should have been Venial.  
“I think I have headache, papae.” she said. She was too exhausted to fight the pain anymore.

They put her in a bed, and Venial tried to heal her, but of course it didn’t work. She couldn’t take the essence of sun away from Siona.  
Papae made them to pull curtains over windows, making the room pitch-black, and it helped a bit. If she didn’t move, the hurt was somewhat bearable. Venial and Olaus promised to stay behind to watch her, while others went to shemlen party.

“Will it stop hurting some day?” she whispered when Dirthamen and Falon’Din were talking noisily in another room.  
“I hope so, da’len.” papae said, holding her hand. “When we get home, I will teach you to control it. That might help. But now you must rest. Being exhausted makes it usually worse.”  
“Does it hurt you too?” she asked, astonished.  
Elgar’nan smiled a crooked smile.  
“Let’s just say that it’s quite easy to get a reputation of having a terrible temper if one has to suffer fools while burning from the inside. Unleashing the power calms it down for month or two. Maybe even a year, if I use enough.”  
Siona smiled faintly.  
“It is good thing then that Senris said I was a terribly needy baby.”  
“You were.” Elgar’nan agreed. “I shudder to think what it would have been like without all those Orlesians I burned to open my foci.”  
He kissed her cheek and left to lady Pavus’ party.

 

\---

 

"I warn you, mother.” Dorian said, standing up and leaning his hands against desk. "If you refuse to see the situation as it is, I will have to take action. The healers say that Kieran will never regain his sight. Having Elgar'nan in your house is like having an untrained mage in a room full of demons. "  
Livia Pavus was not impressed. She sat on leather armchair, looking immaculate and as beautiful as only a carefully preserved magister of sixty-four years could be.  
"This was your reason for sending your templars to drag me away from my guests? Our soiree yesterday was a great success, and I have a hundred things to do now. I have no time for you, Dorian. Your threats did not work on me when you were five years old, and they will not work now either.” she dismissed the Black Divine. "My guests are wonderful people. So very polite."  
"Is that a love bite on your neck?” Dorian's eyes widened and he reached for her, pulling the scarf around her neck lower. "Mother!"  
Livia slapped his fingers.  
"Mind your own business, Dorian."  
"That's it. I'm going to kill Elgar'nan.", he swore.  
"This is not a time to act like a prude peasant, and you are barking at wrong tree.” Livia replied. Her cold demeanour melted into almost giddy expression of glee. "My lord Falon'Din was most gracious to introduce me to very intriguing aspects of elvhen culture. Did you know they consider it impolite to enjoy another's hospitality without paying proper attention to their host?"'  
"This proper attention being what?” he asked, rolling his eyes.  
"I'm just saying that you should invite Falon'Din to Argent Sphere, dear. I'm still delightfully sore after our cultural exchange, and he assured me that he loves all souls he collects. The elves must be thrilled to die.” Livia mused.  
Dorian stared at her.  
"I find our Maker sadly lacking in that respect, but unfortunately elvhen religion is not expansionist. Lord Falon'Din promised he would send me a word if they ever change their minds about new converts.” Livia remarked. "I could consider it. It would make my eventual death something to look forward to."

 

Black Divine stormed out of his study, banging the door loudly enough to make his temporary secretary to raise his gaze from documents he was working on. He was an old man with wide shoulders and Orlesian moustache. The noise His Holiness was making frightened the crows in their cage.  
“Is everything all right, your Holiness?”  
"Nothing is all right, Stroud. I swear to Maker; I would sell my soul if it meant getting rid of pagan gods.” the Black Divine cursed as he strode past, the anger burning red on his cheekbones.  
“Your devotion to Maker’s cause does you honor.” he said seriously. “I know your actions have been widely appreciated. I beg you, your Holiness, do not let the doubts of sinners to mislead you from your path.”  
“Thank you.” Black Divine replied, looking surprised. “I didn’t expect you to offer encouragement but of course, it is only natural considering your new position.”  
“Precisely, Your Holiness.” Stroud smiled. “My mission is to help you with your holy work.”  
“If you have any idea on how to get rid of a bunch of demon gods staying at my mother’s estate without causing a worse scandal than it already is, do it. I’m this close to borrowing some real templars from Andrastian Chantry and razing my own inheritance down...” his new master gestured angrily and stomped away.

When the door of antechamber was slammed shut, Black Divine's new secretary wrote two rows on a small piece of parchment.  
_Set up the trap. The moment is now before they leave._  
He chose the smallest of crows and bound the note around its leg. Opening the window, the man let Tevinter's future to take wings and disappear in the bright, clear midmorning sky above Minrathous.

\---

Dirthamen was worried about his little sister, who had missed last night's party with their shemlen hosts because she had developed a debilitating headache. She had laid utterly still, trying not to move, and although Dirthamen knew everything about using different ailments as convenient reasons to miss social engagements, there was no doubt that her pain was real. Elgar'nan had not seemed surprised at all when healing magic didn't work, and Dirthamen was convinced he had done something fishy to bring the child back from dead.  
The feeling was entirely unexpected; Dirthamen was not a social person. He saw himself more like a chameleon, who was able to adjust his behaviour to social pattern others wanted to see. He preferred to watch people and play a game with himself, trying to predict what they would do next. The fabric of humanity was endlessly fascinating to him. The individual people, not so much. So noticing that he was personally worried on someone's behalf, and the person was not Falon'Din, was unsettling. It was not good, because Elgar’nan doted on the child, and Dirthamen relationship with Elgar'nan was rocky at best. His father hated him with burning intensity for murdering Mythal, and he harboured a quiet resentment towards Elgar'nan. Having a sword stuck through him for few thousand years did that. Falon'Din had not been able to draw it out during their imprisonment behind mirror.  
Falon'Din was jealous. He had informed Dirthamen that he was not sharing with a baby, and hooked up with their hostess to secure another place to sleep last night. Falon'Din and Elgar'nan were having a breakfast with Pavus woman and some of her magister friends. Dirthamen had elected to stay behind and eat in private, informing them that he would come for the party in the evening but no more. The God of Secrets wanted to keep an eye on little one, and he had prepared himself for quiet morning of taking notes to figure out what was wrong with Siona, but it was not what happened.

"Come to play with me and sentinels.” Siona pulled his hand, clearly well recovered and full of energy. "It is fun, I promise!"'  
Dirthamen was not convinced. His years of playing were far behind him, lost somewhere in eons of madness and slow corruption. But the lure was undeniable; like he had told her yesterday, nobody sought his company. Besides, he couldn't observe her status if she ran somewhere without him. Concessions were justifiable. He had done far worse things to further his goals of seeking knowledge.

That was how Dirthamen ended up laying on his stomach on the roof of Pavus palace, armed with a bow and quiver of arrows. He could not remember the last time he had held a bow. Before Arlathan had been built, probably. Siona had a bow, too, and she was watching the back garden. Elgar'nan's sentinels were gathering there, chatting with each other and clearly waiting for something.  
"It's a game Senris invented.” she explained quietly. "It's safe, because their armor are enchanted and these arrows can't penetrate the barrier. We'll shoot as many of them as we have time, and then ran away. Those surviving start chasing us, and longer we evade them, more points we'll get."  
Dirthamen gave her a speculating look. A survival and weapon exercise masqueraded into children's game. How predictable.  
"How do they know it's not a real attack?” he queried. He had no interest getting killed by Elgar'nan's sentinels. They were uncultured and violent lot. On the other hand, he would enjoy humiliating them. Hide and seek was his speciality.  
"We have code phrase for that. Just repeat it after me and they'll know you are playing.” Siona reassured him as the sentinels began warm-up phase of their daily training session.

 

Falon'Din was smiling graciously at magister Maevaris Tilani. The woman was only interesting member of the latest delegation of magisters the elves had received. Most of them came to stare, but there were few clever ones in each group. Falon’Din was certain that Maevaris was one of them. Their hostess had mentioned that the woman was one of those who had born into wrong body, but she had never let it stop her. Maevaris had married a surface dwarf and started a liberal faction in Magisterium. It was clear that she was good friends with Livia Pavus, but no fan of Black Divine’s politics.  
”Minrathous is pretty at this time of year, but I somehow doubt you came here to enjoy weather.” the woman said to Falon’Din.  
”We came down for a holiday. Although our city is splendid, a change of scenery is always refreshing. This place was very different last time I was here.” Falon’Din replied.  
”How long ago was that?” she asked.  
”5900s, I think. -500 in your calendar.” Falon’Din replied. ”We passed by while marching to Barindur. It took years to sort out the dead after our victory against Forgotten Ones there. It was one of father’s more memorable tantrums.”  
The woman looked incredulous.  
”Your Neromenian ancestors were living in little huts and trying to figure out how to make bone knifes.” Falon’Din added with a sharp smile.  
”Am I supposed to feel intimidated?” Maevaris enquired sweetly.  
”I gain nothing from your fear.” Falon’Din said, taking a rune-shaped champagne chocolate from tray. ”I’m merely pointing out the obvious. How much money and resources you have spent building those ridiculous watchtowers to monitor the sky? How many men you have employed to enact this ’Elven Heresy Resolution’? You did all this, cut thousands from Fade, and still one fledging Creator managed to bring down the Veil and give back magic and immortality to People. I think she is her forties. A child compared to rest of us.”  
Maevaris’ eyes were dark and thoughtful, but she did not flinch. Falon’Din was getting warmed to his topic.  
”With your misguided blundering, you have managed to cover half of your kingdom in red lyrium. It’s spread enough to be visible from Arlathan. I would guess that your harvest has been getting smaller each year, your subjects are frequently sick and die younger in infected areas, and still you just go on hunting our People. Your actions only feed the Taint. Fen’Harel says that you have poisoned the land so badly that Tevinter is the most likely place for next Blight, and the stage of our war against the Forgotten Ones. They are strongest here, and they own the Wardens. This time, the sacrifice won’t be a man or woman wearing the griffon mark.”  
The woman took a sip of wine, listening quietly.  
”Since you have no part or significance in this, you are mere victims on the field. Humans will be caught in the middle between two armies, and how much mercy can you expect after it is all over? Elgar’nan will enjoy the vengeance our mortal People visit upon their former slavers, and Fen’Harel will rally them to break everything which remains of your current power. He is a god of Rebellion, after all.” Falon’Din remarked lazily.  
”I didn’t expect to meet a fountain of good advice.” Maevaris said ironically. ”Tell me, then, what would you do if you were me?”  
”Amends, my dear lady. We are having a relaxing holiday, and even All-Father is somewhat open to reasonable suggestions at the moment. The war is no upon you yet. Make a good offer for him, and he might even agree. All wars require cannon fodder, as you well know.” Falon’Din smiled. ”Few thousand deaths are small price compared to what Barindur paid for sheltering the Forgotten Ones.”

 

The perfect atmosphere of impeding ruin was ruined by noise coming from the roof. Falon’Din looked up and his eyes widened. Dirthamen was standing there, holding a bow in his hand. He yelled:  
”Dancing darkspawn! Not on my watch!” and untied his braid.  
As Falon’Din stared, Dirthamen _flipped his hair_. His raven-black hair unbound was a glorious sight, but the gesture was so unlike him that Falon’Din was certain that his twin had gone mad again.

The magisters were staring now, too. Siona was running towards the edge of the roof, and Dirthamen was following her. She jumped from palace roof to second floor balcony, and slid down using a rain chute. Dirthamen kept up with her as she ran straight towards the palace gates, flipping over a hedge in her way. Falon’Din could feel his brother’s magic whispering in air, and his song sounded like laughter as Dirthamen passed through the hedge like a ghost. They scaled the iron gates quickly and vanished in the busy street just as Elgar’nan’s sentinels came to view. There were five of them in black armor, and they pursued their prey with skill and speed one develops only after a lifetime of training. A moment later they were gone, too.

”What was that?” one of the magisters asked weakly.  
”Child’s play.” Elgar’nan replied smoothly. ”My daughter is too young for these gatherings, so she is amusing herself with a game elvhen children like to play in Arlathan.”  
”You are saying that all elven children run on the roofs like assassins, armed with weapons?” Maevaris Tilani inquired politely.  
”Naturally.” Elgar’nan said. ”How else would they learn?”  

\---

 

The catacombs below Minrathous were vast. It was said they were capable of holding enough food to feed the whole city for a year, and Minrathous was the largest city Siona had ever seen. A network of ancient cellars, stairs and corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, and before long, she had no idea how many turns they had taken or how they would get back to papae. But Dirthamen didn’t seem to be worried at all, and since he was God of Secrets, Siona thought he probably knew how to get back. And papae always found her when she was lost.  
Although catacombs made her a bit nervous, she was happily following Dirthamen from room to room. They opened boxes to see what was inside, and Siona found two scrolls she couldn’t read but Dirthamen said they were love letters. She also found an old sword hidden under a loose tile. It had a rune, and the weight was quite good for her, so Siona took it. She had to return papae’s things to him and bow was useless in melee range.

Slipping in the catacombs had been Dirthamen’s suggestion; he said that people usually searched above instead of below. He was very good at this game, because sentinels had not found them yet, and Siona’s stomach was growling. She couldn’t tell the passing of time because there was no light, but she was quite certain lunch had already passed.  
Her brother was on good mood, pointing out interesting details like different scratches on the walls. Slaves used them to pass messages, he said, and noble houses marked their areas, but the oldest of them were made when the humans had served Old Gods.

“What is this place?” she asked when Dirthamen pushed open a heavy stone door and they stepped into different section of catacombs. The ceilings were higher here, and the walls were massive. The architecture was nothing like a storage rooms she had seen previously. This place was all about angular, hard lines yet it was beautiful, too.  
“I think we’ve entered Deep Roads.”, Dirthamen replied slowly. He had odd look on his face.  
“Are you all right?” Siona asked.  
Dirthamen blinked, and she felt his magic searching forwards. She followed his example, hoping there wouldn’t be mindless ones near, when she felt it. There was something near, hiding, but it wasn’t a mindless one. It was bright and sparkling creature, made of pure power. Brushing against it made the little hairs on her neck to stand up. Dirthamen felt it too, because she saw his lips forming words of a curse, or maybe a prayer. She wasn’t sure which one it was meant to be.  
“What is it?” she asked.  
“It’s my dragon.” Dirthamen said, his eyes burning with fervour. “This can’t be coincidence, and it is highly probable this is a trap, but it’s my dragon.”

 

 


	42. Declaration of war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war begins between Forgotten Ones and Creators. 
> 
> Lock your door and put a packet of tissues by computer. This chapter is one of my favorites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like to listen music while you read, I recommend you do it for this chapter. It enhances the angst factor considerably.
> 
> Music for your listening pleasure:  
> For Deep Roads, the first chapters: Something for What Ails You, Snow White OST https://youtu.be/OAvxQydhqXw 
> 
> For Deep Roads (when the first darkspawn arrive and forwards): "Redemption Through Blood" https://youtu.be/tEaBlcdtluc and for the hard part "You were saved for a reason" https://youtu.be/keZ92shdkaA , both from Clash of the Titans OST 
> 
> For Dorian POV: Love I Lost by Negative. https://youtu.be/i5VApeOAX84

Siona did not like this. She had never been to Deep Roads before, and she didn’t want to come back ever again. In the world above there was always some kind of sound. Animals, wind whistling, or raindrops falling on the tent canvas. But this place was eerily quiet, and the only sound came from Dirthamen’s robes whispering against the stone floor as he walked forwards. Her brother did not look all right. He was very pale except for his eyes. They were too bright and feverish.  
“Dirthamen.”, Siona whispered. “I don’t think we should go there. We should go back and get the others.”  
He ignored her, his attention focused on something she couldn’t see.  
“I don’t like this.” she tried again. “It’s dangerous. You said this is a trap. I want to go back and tell papae.”  
“Can’t you hear the song of tainted lyrium? Can’t you feel it vibrating in your bones?” Dirthamen whispered, not looking at her. “There is no time. If we don’t go now, it will be lost.”  
“No, I don’t, and you shouldn’t either.” Siona was getting anxious. “Don’t listen to it. Just don’t.”  
She tried to take his hand, but he wouldn’t stop walking. Dirthamen pulled away, following a song she couldn’t hear.  
“I’m not coming with you.” Siona threatened, feeling small and frightened. “You have to come back with me. You can’t leave me alone in Deep Roads.”  
Dirthamen paid no attention to her. He started walking down the crumbled stairs descending lower in the depths of darkness, and did not look back to see if she was following or not. He had almost gotten out of sight when Siona realized he wasn’t going to wait for her, or come back with her. And she didn’t know how to get back to shemlen palace.  
“Wait!” she wailed and started to run after Dirthamen. “Please wait!”

She had completely lost all sense of direction in the maze of ruined corridors and broken pathways cut through the stone. Once she saw a glimpse of Dirthamen’s black velvet robes far ahead, but when she tried to locate him with magic, the vast presence of dragon blocked everything. It felt like giant hammer hitting her on head, and Siona reeled, sitting down before she fell down. And then she started to hear a whispering, gnawing sound from the dark, humming a broken song. She knew that one. Darkspawn. A whole pack of darkspawn, and she didn’t even have an armor. She remembered Lovenna’s grey face after she had been poisoned, and sentinels’ grim explanation on how dying in a blood magic rite was preferable to what would have happened.  
“Papae.”, she breathed, pleading as she pushed herself up, drawing her sword and pressing her back against wall. “Senris. Someone please help.”  
The low humming noise was getting closer, and she started to run to opposite direction. Senris had told her never to run in unfamiliar places, because they could be full of traps, but she had to find Dirthamen. If she fell into trap, it would be better than being caught by the mindless ones.

“Not that way!” a voice whispering from the dark stopped Siona. It was a voice of a woman, speaking in clumsy elvish with a strong Dalish accent. “You will run straight to their arms!”  
“I have to find my brother!” she stopped, breathing heavily. “He is tall with black hair, no vallaslin, and wearing dark velvet robe.”  
“I know where he is. If you follow me, I will take you to your brother.” voice promised. A hand wearing a leather glove pushed out from the shadows which were too deep for elvhen eyes to discern. Siona didn’t dare to take the sunglasses off.  
“Wait.”, Siona said, remembering something. Maybe this was the trap, and the woman was a servant of Forgotten Ones. “Whose vallaslin do you wear? Whom you serve?”  
“I chose markings of Ghilan’nain to proclaim my adulthood.” the voice replied, clearly surprised by question. “But I serve the Architect. There is no time to waste. Come, or I cannot help you.”  
Hearing the grunts and growls of darkspawn coming closer, Siona took the hand offered to her. The Dalish woman pulled her into shadows with surprising strength and started to lead her through the impenetrable darkness. Siona could not see a thing, but her guide evidently did not have the same problem.  
“Who are you?” she whispered.  
“My name is Seranni.” the woman replied. “But you must be quiet now. They are close, and they will hear us if you speak. I know a place where we can watch.”

 

They walked for short time, and then Siona began to see a red glow ahead.  
“I can’t come further.” her guide whispered. “But I will wait for you here.”  
The Dalish woman pushed her forwards, and Siona heard voices speaking in elvish nearby. She took her bow and started to sneak forwards, hiding behind pillar-like growths of red lyrium. When she got closer, she could make out the words, and they made her blood run cold.

“This is your last chance, brother.” a woman’s voice said. Her hair was made of little braids, adorned by bells which tingled sweetly as she walked. It was the only thing which was sweet in her, because her skin was sickly pale and black veins ran under her skin.  
Dirthamen was kneeling on the ground, and a man dressed in odd armor was holding a sword against his back. There was something wrong with man’s face, because Siona could not say what he looked like. His features were obscured by shadow, and the moment she looked at something else, his face just vanished from her mind.

There was a third woman, who had long brown hair and very stylish clothes.  
“You heard what Andruil said.” the third one told Dirthamen. “I offer you a choice. You can join us as our equal, or you will be made to serve us.”  
“I will not do the same mistake again, Geldauran.” Dirthamen said quietly. “I will never serve you. You will fail, and on that day I will be waiting for you in the Fade when your soul tries to cross back in the Void. I will tear your spirit apart, and bend it into my service, like I did to Fear and Deceit.”  
“Such a grand words for an insolent prisoner.” Geldauran said, her voice angry. “They will be your last. You will never insult me again.”  
Andruil took a hold of Dirthamen’s head, forcing him to open his jaw. Siona saw Geldauran take a knife from her belt, and then the Forgotten One did a horrible thing. Horrible, horrible thing. From her hiding place, Siona saw the blade cutting flesh, and she started to cry soundlessly. Tears obscured her vision, and she wanted to kill them, kill them all when she heard Dirthamen screaming. But there were no words in his cry of pain. He couldn’t, because Geldauran had cut off his tongue.

When Geldauran took a severed piece of flesh and threw over her shoulder, it made a wet, disgusting sound as it landed near to Siona’s hiding place. Siona pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, trying to wipe enough tears away so she could see something and then she bent down to collect the severed body part. Maybe someone could put it back. Someone had to, after papae and Falon’Din came and saved them. Dirthamen needed it. She couldn’t let darkspawn eat a piece of her brother.

When Siona had wrapped the tongue in handkerchief and put it safely in her pocket, she felt someone staring at her. It was Dirthamen. The lower part of his face was covered in blood, and it was still running from his mouth and along his jaw. But his eyes were desperate, and Siona knew he had seen her.  
“Give me the necklace.” Geldauran ordered Andruil, who pulled something out from her pocket.  
_Kill me._ Dirthamen’s voice suddenly echoed inside Siona’s mind _. Kill me now before they can bind my spirit. Please. You have to, sister. If they put the necklace on me, even father can’t burn the taint away._

She looked at Forgotten Ones, and remembered what father had said yesterday. They would hurt her just to hurt father. Like they had hurt Dirthamen. They were evil, and it was their fault that papae had been poisoned. They had stolen Senris. She could not let them take Dirthamen too. They would take everyone and everything she loved.  
_Do it. Please._ Dirthamen’s eyes begged. Siona took her bow and pulled an arrow from a quiver. Familiar movements had never felt so hard. She notched the arrow, seeing Andruil to give a bloodstone pendant to Geldauran. There was no time. Siona aimed her arrow at Dirthamen’s throat and pulled the string taut. Dirthamen gave her a very small nod, his eyes thankful. Siona could not bear seeing it, and she loosed her arrow.

The moment she let go, Dirthamen released all his strength for one final spell. He dispelled everything around him. Andruil’s pendant stopped glowing, and Geldauran’s knife lost the enchantment. What was left of Dirthamen’s ruined barriers, went down, and Siona saw her arrow flying straight and true. It impaled the soft flesh of his throat, coming out from his neck, and Dirthamen fell. But worst of all was the man with a sword. For a second, Siona saw his true face, and it belonged to Senris. Senris had just stood there and let them maim her brother. She felt her heart break.

 _Run!_ , Dirthamen’s voice screamed in her mind, and Siona started running, not able to understand what was happening or how he could talk because he was _dead_.  
“This way.” Seranni’s hand grabbed hers and Siona followed. They ran madly through the darkness, Seranni pulling Siona behind her, and Siona wept, still holding her bow in her free hand. A very tall, skeleton-like form was waiting for them, holding a door open.  
“Come quickly.” it said, pulling them both inside a room. “I will hide you.”  
There was a desk with books piled on it, and a small oil lamp. The creature stepped closer to it, turning the flame brighter. It was the moment Siona realized she was looking at a darkspawn. A talking darkspawn with distorted, human-like face. Seranni stood against door, blocking her way out, and when Siona looked at her, she saw Seranni’s face was black and dead like ghoul’s.  
“I am Architect.” the creature said, offering its hand in a greeting. “Come. I will take you back home.”  
“I can’t go home.” Siona said, her voice breaking. “I killed my brother. I begged him to play with me, and it went all wrong. They will never forgive me.”  
“I see.” the Architect said. “I understand this is very unfortunate situation for you, but I’m seeking volunteers for my cause. Your assistance would be welcome.”  
The creature’s attempt at sympathy didn’t feel very genuine, but at least it was polite. Siona was so deep in shock she could not make herself to ask what cause Architect was talking about. It was not like she had options. She merely nodded.  
“Excellent.”, the Architect said, sounding pleased. “I seek to break the hold of Old Gods over darkspawn. My unfortunate brethren have been digging towards an untainted dragon whose song is driving them mad. Those lording over us want it, but I have devised another way to reach the creature, and I would be most pleased if you could end the tyranny of song. I have learned the hard way that we cannot approach the dragon without worsening the situation, but Seranni says you are quite talented killer.”  
“I guess I am.”, Siona said numbly.  
“Let us depart in all haste, then.” Architect announced and pushed the desk aside, revealing a secret door with ladders leading down. “Seranni, would you distract our pursuers?”  
“Of course.” the tainted elf said as Architect descended down the ladder and motioned Siona to follow. Siona’s hands were shaking as she climbed down.  
_A shrewd move, sister, but we aren’t out of danger yet._ Dirthamen’s voice in her mind congratulated, and Siona was sure she had gone mad.

 

\--

 

“Who was it?” Andruil screamed in rage. “Go and find the killer, you mindless idiots!”  
Senris ignored her, turning Dirthamen’s body around to study the arrow which had killed him. A good shot, even though it veered ever so slightly to right. He broke the arrow to pull it out. The shaft had a good spine, and it was clearly meant for high-draw bow. The arrow point was broadhead. Those were expensive to make, and usually not used for hunting small game or practice. But it was the lack of notch in the rearmost end and the black feathers used by his former brothers and sisters, combined with slight tilt of arrow’s route which revealed the identity of archer. Even though it was impossible. This had to be a trick. A vengeance.  
“I will conduct the search and hunt down the intruder.” Senris said to Geldauran, keeping his voice neutral. “I work better alone than with a flock of mindless ones trampling over the traces.”  
“As you wish. But you cannot avoid facing Elgar’nan forever.” Geldauran said, her words a warning. “Our war begins tonight, and it will only end after they all have been cut down.”  
Senris merely nodded, pocketing the arrow, and walked away.

\--

 

Dorian sighed and looked out from the window of his quarters in Argent Sphere. Sun was going down, and he would have to leave soon with his templars to mother’s party. Dorian would have preferred to deal with this less public way, but his mother had challenged his authority so rudely that he could not let it slide and keep his position. Tevinter was full of sharks, and only way to survive was to be most ruthless of the lot.  
His templars were veterans of Elven Heresy Resolution, and knew what they were facing. He had equipped them with so much lyrium that Stroud would faint when he got the bill from dwarves. Additionally, the sergeants held a copy of every demon banishing litany they had found from Circle of Magi. Whether it was enough, Dorian did not know, but there was only one way to find out. Feeling slightly nervous, he took his staff and decided to stop by the wine cellar before heading out. A drink for encouragement was always a good idea.

The wine cellars of Argent Sphere were generally excellent. He had a good trade going on with Orlesians wineries, which was good, because Tevinter harvest had been lousy in recent years. People claimed it was because of red lyrium, and Dorian privately suspected that elves were spreading the disease somehow. But Elgar’nan liked finer things in life – Dorian doubted that even he would ruin vineries. Maybe it had just slipped.

He was happily pondering between Arbour Wilds White and Tirashan Red as he took the keys from his belt and opened the heavy oak door leading to cellar. The sight meeting him was unbelievable. There was a huge hole in the cellar floor, and it was still smoking. His new secretary was lowering a ladder inside the hole. The ladders Dorian required to reach the highest shelf where Tirashan Red was kept. Having a gaping hole in wine cellar floor was disastrous! The magically controlled temperature system was not enchanted to deal with extreme conditions like this, and the catacombs were full of urchins ready to steal his bottles.  
“What do you think you are doing, Stroud?” Dorian demanded. Kieran never did anything like this!  
“Ah. Black Divine.”, the man said. He was wearing an armor under his priestly vestments; Dorian saw the metal boots peeking under the hem. And a sword on his belt was a dead tell, of course.  
“You said that if I had any idea on how to get rid of elvhen gods staying at your lady mother’s estate, I should do It.”, Stroud smirked. “It happens that I had several.”  
Dorian heard odd, humming noise from the bottom of the hole. He didn’t recognize it, but it made shivers run down his spine.  
“First Warden wishes to thank you for your tireless work for our cause.” Stroud said. “It would have been much harder to do this without the blow you dealt to elves.”  
Dorian heard the ladders creaking; someone was climbing up. He stared at the hole. A smell of filth and decay was rising from it, and he heard growling. A misshapen head appeared on the edge of hole, and Dorian stared at it, aghast.  
“Darkspawn.”, he said, feeling weak. “And you a Warden. How could you, Stroud?”  
“You, of all people, should know what it means to be bound to will of another.” man’s face twisted, and he stepped to block Dorian’s exit.

But Dorian was no ordinary mage. Like he had once told Inquisitor, he was a product of careful breeding. A magister son of magister mother and father, with impeccable lineage and skills honed in battle against Corypheus. He pulled the power from Fade, cursing Stroud. He slashed at Warden’s twisted spirit, creating a thousand little lashes to damage it, and then Dorian turned on his heels and stepped through the Fade to escape the wine cellar.  
He slammed the door shut, counting to five, and triggered his spell. The sound of explosion was barely audible through the heavy door, but to his magically heightened senses, it was clear that Warden Stroud was dead.  
Then Dorian did the most undignified thing. He gathered his robes in his hands so he wouldn’t trip on them and started to run.  
“Alarm! Sound the alarm!” he yelled to surprised servants as he ran past. “The darkspawn are attacking from catacombs! Alert the army! And someone send for bloody pagan gods!”

 

The gravity of situation in Minrathous became soon apparent. The darkspawn were breaking out from catacombs all over the town and slaughtering the unprepared citizens. It was impossible to know all locations, but the messages they were getting through, pointed out that someone had planned the attack. Darkspawn were following something or someone.  
Dorian’s templars were first to march to defend the people. The problem was that the catacombs encompassed the whole city, and there was no way to seal them off entirely. The huge juggernauts guarding Minrathous gates were activated and they turned their cold gazes towards the city for first time since they had been built in Ancient Age.

Archon Gallius called Magisterium into emergency meeting. Only one third appeared in session, and Dorian wondered how many of his old enemies had been slaughtered in their beds or fallen on their way. Normally he would have suspected that majority were hiding in their wardrobes, but if there was one thing uniting the magisters of Tevinter, they all hated people trying to conquer their capital city.  
“Where are the Wardens?” Caius Urellius demanded. “Dealing with darkspawn is their job!”  
“Don’t be a fool, Caius!” Maevaris Tilani snapped. “This is your fault, yours and other fools’ who supported Elven Heresy Resolution. I spoke with lady Pavus’ guests yesterday, and one of them, Falon’Din, said that their enemies own the Wardens and red lyrium has poisoned the land so badly that Blight would most certainly start in Tevinter.”  
“You and other libertarians fail to see the obvious! The demon gods have set up this attack to fool you!”  
“And what do you think they would hope to gain?” Maevaris lashed at Caius. “They don’t need us. Their city in the sky is perfectly safe from darkspawn, and if they have survived there for over a decade with no supplies from outside, I doubt they are in sudden need of slaves, leather or black silk. If you had listened what they have to say, you would know that they claim the Blight is a favoured weapon of other set of gods, their enemies.”  
“How many blasted sets of pagan gods there is?” Caius threw his hands wide in desperation.  
“Although religious discussion is always encouraged, now is not the time.” Dorian interrupted them. “We must concentrate on present situation. We have to find a way to block the darkspawn from entering the city. Or if we can’t do that, we have to abandon Minrathous and seal the city. This place was built to withstand a siege.”  
“Abandoning Minrathous is out of question.” Archon Gallus said firmly. “We will fight.”  
“But how?” Titus Alexius asked.  
“We could flood the catacombs and destroy the bridge connecting us to shore.” Maevaris said. “Darkspawn can’t swim.”  
“Normally I would call a vote, but war is not an occasion for democracy.” Archon Gallus said, looking at Dorian, who nodded. “We will flood the catacombs. Magister Tilani, you have the authority to enlist all citizens, including those belonging to Altus class, whom you need to finish this task. The rest of you will kill the darkspawn already in Minrathous. Tonight, we will show them the might of Tevinter!”  
The Magisterium broke in battle cries, their shouts echoing from the walls and Dorian couldn’t help but smile. For all his criticism on Tevinter, there were moments his heart swelled with pride, and watching his brethren to march against the darkspawn to defend their country was one of them. He would remember this for as long as he lived.

To his relief, Dorian met his mother in Three Emperor’s Square. Livia stank of smoke and her robes were dusty, but she looked unharmed.  
“Mother.”, Dorian said, embracing her.  
“Oh, Dorian.” Livia said, holding him tight. “I was so worried about you.”  
“What happened?”  
“We lost the estate, Dorian.” Livia said, her spine ramrod straight. Only the faint moisture glistening in her eyes betrayed her inner feelings.  
“The darkspawn were swarming there. They came through the cellar wall from catacombs. We were having a dinner when they just broke in. I didn’t have my staff or anything, and household guards were just useless. I would have died without Elgar’nan and his sentinels. They killed the darkspawn, but when the mark of Magisterium lit up and we understood that it had to be happening all over Minrathous, I had to choose. I set my own house in fire. No darkspawn will get out through there, now.”  
Dorian felt horrible. The palace of Pavus was filled with priceless items from past generations and those Livia had collected from their less fortunate magister friends. To lose all that… If Livia had agreed to do such a thing, the situation must have been desperate indeed.  
When he looked around, he saw smoke rising from different parts of the city. It seemed that Livia had not been only one to make such choice, or maybe darkspawn were setting buildings in fire, now. Did they do such thing? Dorian didn’t know. Knowing darkspawn was Wardens' job, except Wardens had switched sides. Those bastards.

Elgar’nan was standing nearby with his sentinels and one of his sons. The other son or the girl weren’t with them. The God of Vengeance was imposing sight in ornate black armor, and Dorian wanted to start laughing hysterically when he noticed Elgar’nan had a diadem instead of a helmet. No helmet hair for him, naturally.  
“Dorian.”, Elgar’nan greeted him, and it took a moment before Dorian realized he had actually used his name. His actual name instead of calling him Alas. If Dorian had known to expect this, he would have arranged for a fainting couch.  
“Do you have any news of Dirthamen or Siona?” God of Vengeance asked. “We have not heard from them since midmorning. Falon’Din has scried for them, but the last image he can call up is the mausoleum near Hessarian Gardens.”  
Dorian drew a breath. He knew Hessarian Gardens very well.  
“I’m truly sorry, Elgar’nan.” he said, and for first time ever, he actually meant it. “The mausoleum connects to catacombs. It is said that dwarves planned to build their embassy there, once, before Archon Darinius gifted a guest home to Endrin Stonehammer which later became Ambassadoria. Historians disagree on how far the building got before the dwarves changed their mind, but some claim that there might be a Deep Roads connection, carefully hid from the sight.”  
Elgar’nan closed his eyes, and Dorian saw the remaining boy making a fist. A black magic crackled on his fingers, screaming for release.  
“We do not know anything for sure, yet.” one of the sentinels said. “The little one is not a bad fighter, and Dirthamen can keep her hidden. It would not be reasonable to try to pass the darkspawn horde. They could be hiding somewhere safe.”  
“Certainly.”, Dorian hurried to say. “As long as there is reason to believe otherwise, you should—“  
His words were interrupted by a horn blowing in the Magisterium tower. He looked up in the sky, and saw a silhouette of twisted dragon against sky.  
“Is it Razikale or Lusacan?” Dorian asked, feeling a bit faint.  
“Razikale.” Falon’Din said, staring at the sky.  
It was holding something in its talons. The archdemon circled over the Three Imperator’s Square and when it saw the elves, it dropped its burden right at Elgar’nan’s feet.

It was his son. The lower part of Dirthamen’s face was a mask of blood, and his mouth was open. When Dorian saw his tongue had been cut off before death, he turned away and vomited on the ground. He had seen his share of disgusting things, but this was something else.  
The sound Elgar’nan let out was inhuman. It pierced through Dorian’s eardrums, and when he saw Falon’Din’s mouth opening but couldn’t hear anything, he touched his ears and saw his fingers were stained with blood. It was probably a good thing, because the expression of rage and loss on Falon’Din’s face was something Dorian would never forget. The God of Death changed his form into grey dragon and took off, screaming death at Razikale. Eight black dragons, one much bigger than the rest of them, followed him in blind rage.

“What are you staring at?” Dorian yelled at his templars, holding hands on his ears as he healed them. “Go kill darkspawn. And mother. You will take him to Argent Sphere. Respectfully.” he nodded towards Dirthamen’s corpse.  
His mother nodded, and Dorian turned to address his troops.  
“We will start from the southern quarter.”, he commanded.  
“But it’s filled with slaves and Liberati!” one of the templars pointed out.  
“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood Maker’s Will is written.” Dorian said, his voice loud and strong. “We are the Champions of Just. The verse was meant as a warning for faithful. We should judge our heart’s intentions, and be courageous to admit our wrongdoings. The slaves and Liberati are Maker’s Children, and it is my duty as Divine to stand by them on their moment of need.”  
“Even the elven slaves?” his mother asked sharply.  
“Even the elves.” Dorian said, although it smarted. “I can ask whom they pray to after the darkspawn have been dealt with. The people of Minrathous are my flock, and I will defend them.”  
Livia smiled at him for real, like she had done when Dorian had been a young boy, and quoted:  
“But the one who repents, who has faith, In the Maker's law and creations, he shall know  
the peace of the Maker's benediction. The Light shall lead him safely through the paths of this world, and into the next.”  
“Why, mother. I didn’t take you for a believer.” Dorian said, hiding his true feelings behind humour like he always did.  
“You have a city to save, Dorian.” Livia said sternly. “Get on with it.”

 

 


	43. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Minrathous is chaotic. Includes twerking naked dwarf, rock wraiths, more than one broken alliance, good guys turning bad and bad guys turning good, flying dragons and lots of wreckage.

Fen’Harel stared at naked Varric twerking at his altar and regretted bitterly that he had asked Abelas to accompany him when he had felt a summoning down from Thedas. The sentinel’s expression was serious as always, but Fen’Harel just knew he was howling from laughter inside. There was no way Abelas wasn’t going to tell Kallian and Mythal’s sentinels all about Fen’Harel’s worshippers. Soon the rumour would make rounds in Arlathan, and Mythal would needle him forever for this. To add insult to injury, Varric’s other body parts seemed to be as hairy as his chest, and human mage with him was getting on the mood with his frolicking. Fen’Harel was almost certain this was a plot aimed to embarrass him. It had to be Falon’Din, or maybe even June.  
Fen’Harel cleared his throat, deciding it was time to end this.  
“You may stop.” he said gracefully. “I am here.”  
Varric looked up, his expression relieved.  
“Finally! I wonder what kind of religion yours is, if this is what you have to do to summon a god. We brought you a book.”  
“A book?” Fen’Harel was quite surprised.  
“Andruil’s memoirs, dictated by her Bitchiness and written down by yours truly.” Varric bowed with flourish, offering a thick tome to Fen’Harel who accepted it. “Last time ever I’m taking a ghost writer job. Workplace conditions suck and I didn’t even get to add any embellishments.”  
Anders was much more sensitive to cold than Varric, and he was already pulling his robe over his head.  
“So we promised to aid you with war effort. What do you need us to do?” the mage asked.  
Fen’Harel and Abelas looked at each other. This was getting even stranger. Varric saw their expressions, and hurried to explain.  
“Look. I and Blondie were extremely unhappy Grey Wardens wandering in far south. Few weeks ago, we met a bunch of sky elves who taught Blondie’s spiritual side to undo the Joining. In return, they demanded a promise that we would give the book to you, and aid you in war effort against Andruil’s lot.”  
“Tell me, durgen’len.” Abelas said sharply. “Did they have a girl of six or seven years with them?”  
“Abelas, you know we found the grave.” Fen’Harel began.  
“I will not believe before I see her dead body with my own eyes.” Abelas replied sternly, looking at Varric.  
“No. Youngest of them was a boy of seventeen or eighteen, maybe. They had a birthday party going on in Tombigbee.”  
Abelas’ eyes narrowed. Fen’Harel knew what sentinel was thinking, and he had to make sure Abelas would not go blurting his mad theories to Ellana. Not when she had finally learned to go on with her life. Elgar’nan’s sentinels could have taken a new recruit, or maybe it was Senris’ birthday. Abelas was leaping to conclusions, and Fen’Harel was not going to allow it.  
“We can continue this discussion later.” Fen’Harel said. “Do you have a camp here? I can take you up to Arlathan after a nap.”’

 

\--

“Watching the leaves, green, and sun shining. The feel of wind against his skin, new and unfamiliar, but nice. Blue eyes smiling at him, gentle and warm.” Cole mused in Abelas’ garden.  
“Have you thought of names yet?” Ellana asked, tickling her baby brother under his chin. Or to be exact, the rolls of baby fat which would turn into chin one day. He was plump and lovely, and Ellana adored him. After the birth of her brothers, she had been idly thinking what it would be like to have a red-haired baby of her own. Not that she would ever act on idea, because her track record with Enethriel and Siona had been enough to break any mother’s heart, but it was nice to think about it when she snuggled against Fen’Harel at night. She often wondered if Siona had been red-haired before Elgar’nan took away her true face.  
“Soris.”, Kallian replied with a smile. “After my cousin. And Junius.”  
“After June?” Ellana asked.  
“It was what he wanted for fixing my legs.” Kallian shrugged.  
Ellana pursed her lips. The mortal elves hadn’t quite recovered from realization that their god of Craft was a dwarf, and June had less followers than others. A son of two sentinels, born in a family of priests, could be an excellent addition to his worshippers when the boy came of age. She had learned her lesson with Siona; one could never discount politics and old feuds when dealing with Creators. But her father undoubtedly knew it, and Ellana didn’t want to ruin Kallian’s happiness with worries about something which might never come to pass.  
“I will look after you.” she whispered to little Junius, breathing in the milky scent of a baby. She had once sat under this very tree, nursing Siona, just before Rise. Ellana remembered her devastated realization of how far her People had truly fallen, when she had seen Abelas’ house for the first time and compared it with aravels of her clan. It was lovely but bittersweet memory. Even though she lived in a house full of children, and considered them members of her clan, and Ellana loved her little brothers, it was not the same thing.

Banishing dark thoughts, Ellana smiled when she saw Kallian’s face light up when the gate opened. Her love shone on her features, making the woman look beautiful. It was wonderful thing to see. But behind Abelas and Fen’Harel, there were two others. Varric and Anders.  
Ellana swallowed. Without meaning it, she stepped in front of Kallian and babies, and her magic flared, raising a wall of pure force to shield them. She knew there was nothing to fear about Anders, that they were friends and fellow sufferers in hands of the Chantry. She remembered how Anders had helped her walk through the gauntlet in Val Royeaux, one tortured apostate assisting another, but still he was a human man and it was enough to set her on the edge. She knew her fear was irrational, but still she couldn’t quite shake it off.  
“I can help.” Cole said eagerly as he sensed her distress.  
Fen’Harel’s grey gaze was sad yet understanding.  
“It would be best. Varric, Anders. Cole will take you to my temple and keep you company. I will return later to talk with you.”  
Ellana nodded. She hated herself for feeling this way. She had always thought herself as strong, and it was wrong that something so minor had broken her. She had survived the death of her clan, losing Fen’Harel, the possession by Mythal, but her imprisonment had left lasting impact she couldn’t fight off although she wanted to.

She didn’t let the wall dissolve before the gate had closed again.  
“There is something I have to tell you, vhenan.” Fen’Harel said. His voice was unsure, and Abelas was looming over him in threatening way. Ellana was almost expecting her father would kick Fen’Harel’s ankle if he wasn’t going to continue soon.  
“I met Siona in the Fade last night. She is not dead. She told me that she is having a holiday with Elgar’nan and twins.” Fen’Harel said.  
“How? Where?” Ellana whispered.  
“I don’t know. She refused to tell me. All I know there is a spa and they were going to party hosted by human nobles before coming back to Arlathan.” Fen’Harel replied. “Can you imagine my shock when she suddenly appeared with a Rage Spirit, yelling at me being a lousy father and bad hahren? She was angry because Dirthamen had told her that babies don’t come from eggs, and she felt stupid. She is all grown up now, almost an adult.”  
“What does she look like? Is she happy?” Ellana asked, and the longing in her voice tore at Fen’Harel’s heart.  
“I can draw for you.” he offered, taking a piece of coal and a book from his pocket. He sat down under a tree and flipped pages until he found an unfilled one. Ellana sat next him, looking intently as the first lines appeared on paper.  
“I think we should go inside, Enasal.” Kallian said to her husband. Abelas nodded, picking up the children, and they vanished inside the house.

 

It was late afternoon, and they were having a dinner. The talk was about small, insignificant things. Nobody felt ready to discuss what Fen’Harel had seen, or about book Fen’Harel hadn’t read yet. The babies were wide awake, passed from one family member to another so everyone got to eat while food was still warm, and Junius was pulling Fen’Harel’s hair despite Dread Wolf’s protests.  
“I will get dessert.” Kallian said. She gave Soris to Abelas and stood up, the movement accompanied by flash of lyrium under the fabric of her leggings.  
“Halla yoghurt?” Fen’Harel asked hopefully.  
Kallian grinned and was about to answer, when Mythal’s branches on her face suddenly started to burn. The blue ink under her skin shone with power, and Kallian let out a pained cry. She turned away and started to run, but not towards kitchen but upstairs.  
“Kallian?” Abelas had stood up, a look of horror on his face.  
“What is happening?” Ellana turned to Fen’Harel, feeling shocked.  
“It’s the vallaslin.” Fen’Harel said. “Mythal is using it to override the free will of those marked for her.”  
“Father?” Ellana stood up. She worried about Abelas, who paid her no attention at all.  
“Kallian!” Abelas called louder. His voice was anxious, and Soris started to cry. They waited for a minute, then two in tense silence before there was an answer.

Kallian Tabris descended the stairs, and Ellana felt a lump in her throat as she saw the golden armor Kallian had not worn after her accident. She had armed herself with daggers and her expression was grim.  
Kallian strode across the hall, straight towards the main door, and did not stop for stricken Abelas or frightened children, who had started to wail when they sensed others’ distress. Her vallaslin was shining like an activated rune.  
“What are you doing?” Ellana stepped in front of her, blocking her way.  
“I’m sorry.” Kallian said, her voice panicked. “Don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t stop myself. I have to go to Mythal.”  
She pushed Ellana aside, and ran out from the door.

 

By the time they got to Mythal’s temple, the shields of the city were already opening, and army of Arlathan was assembling in front of their eyes.  
“Sentinels, assemble!” Melana shouted. “Offensive squad on the left, defensive on the right.”  
“Dalish hunters, stand by!” Loranil roared a command.  
“Mages!”  
“Keepers!”  
Still holding Abelas’ second baby, Fen’Harel pushed his way towards Mythal. Ellana was faster, moving ahead, and he saw her exchanging few words with Mythal before the Goddess of Justice changed her form and took flight. The sentinels followed her example. Golden dragons went first, then black ones belonging to Elgar’nan. In far fever numbers, the grey for Falon’Din followed. Dirthamen’s copper ones were curiously missing.

The army stood there, waiting for orders, when Ellana came to Abelas and Fen’Harel. The expression on her face was the mask of Inquisitor.  
“Fen’Harel. You and June are responsible for city defence while we are gone. Mythal left father to assist you and command the troops left here. I’m going down with them.” she nodded towards the disappearing dragons.  
“What in the Void has happened?” Fen’Harel demanded.  
“Forgotten Ones have slain Dirthamen and their servants are attacking Minrathous. Elgar’nan’s sentinels called for help. There are eight of them with Elgar’nan and Falon’Din. Siona was with Dirthamen when they went missing, and there are no news of her fate.” Ellana said. One of the Dalish ran to her, breathing heavily as she offered Ellana her staff and Keeper robes.  
“Shouldn’t you stay? It’s Minrathous, and full of humans.” Fen’Harel asked.  
“Don’t say a word, Fen’Harel.” she warned as she pulled the armor over her head. “I will not abandon my child at the mercy of darkspawn, Forgotten Ones and humans. And I have a score to settle with Imperial Chantry.”

\--

Dorian knew it was all going to Void when Forgotten Ones appeared. He was standing on the Hill of Thalsian at the time with a good view over the city. At least he thought it was highly likely that they were Forgotten Ones, because common darkspawn didn’t just turn into huge, horrible monsters made of molten rock. Two ancient golems built by dwarves to defend Minrathous gates were useless against them. One of the rock monsters twisted a head off a golem with ease, and infected the rest with black, oozing substance. The darkened metal chassis of the golem turned against Tevinter after that, hell-bent on destroying the tower where mages controlling the golem were gathered.  
The rock monster grabbed one of black dragons in the middle of flight, and crushed it inside its huge fist. The death cry of dragon was horrible to hear, and the big black dragon landed down on Three Imperator’s Square. Mere seconds later Dorian saw Elgar’nan rising up to sky, shining so brightly that it hurt his eyes to watch. The Eldest of the Sun lifted his hand towards the sun shining low on the sky, and Dorian saw how a river of light started to flow towards Elgar’nan. The day grew dimmer, as the light was stolen from the sky and stored inside Elgar’nan’s glowing form.  
“By the Maker!” one of the templars cursed, his voice betraying his panic. “Can the pagan gods do that?”  
Dorian was speechless. He had the horrible feeling that his beloved city would be utterly ruined, no matter what the outcome of the battle. For first time, he actually understood what Elgar’nan meant with his arrogant talk about Shems living in mud huts. Dorian knew Tevinter had the best mages in Thedas, but they were no match to rock monsters, and he didn’t want to know what would happen to Minrathous if it was the stage of battle between two groups of gods. But it was too late for that, because Elgar’nan released the power he had gathered, and blinding, burning light hit Minrathous like an exploding star. The highest buildings, practically everything above third floor, were simply cut in half, and the noise of crushing stone was deafening as the towers fell over darkspawn and screaming people of Minrathous alike.  
“Geldauran!” Elgar’nan’s furious voice shook the ground. He shouted something in elvish, which Dorian couldn’t understand, but it was effective. He saw the ground splitting in two near Hessarian Gardens, and something was rising from the chasm. It was a woman with dark brown hair. She was flying through air towards Elgar’nan, and Blight bloomed in her wake, tainting everything touched by her shadow.  
“Look up, your Holiness!” one of his men yelled.  
Dorian didn’t want to, but he did so nonetheless. An army of dragons in different colours was flying towards Minrathous. There were golden ones, more black ones and grey. It was the rest of elves’ accursed pantheon, coming to avenge Elgar'nan's boy. Oh, blood and damnation.  
“We have to start evacuations. There is no way this is going to end well.” Dorian gave the command.  
“Are you asking us to abandon Minrathous, your Holiness?”  
“I’m not asking. This is an order. We must gather our forces to retake the gates, so we can start evacuating the civilians through bridge to mainland.”

\--

Ellana knew that blood magic was magic like any other, and in this particular case, it was undoubtedly the best tool for the job. But old beliefs sat deep, and she felt uncomfortable as she made a shallow cut to her arm and cast the spell to scry for her child. It only worked in close range, and had never proven any results when she had searched for Siona with Fen’Harel. But this time the blood flared up with strength which surprised Ellana. She felt strong pull towards east and started to follow it.

The doors leading to dwarven embassy were slightly ajar. When she stepped inside, she saw to her surprise that there were no bodies at all. The embassy was in pristine condition, like war had not touched it at all. There were no bodies, no blood, and no signs of battle. It was disturbing, because one would have thought that a dwarven embassy connected to catacombs would be first place for darkspawn to enter, and dwarves were sworn enemies of filthy creatures. There were echoes of voices coming from lower floors, and the spell pulled her towards stone stairs descending deeper. Ellana took a good hold of her staff and started to walk downwards, watching her surroundings carefully. Something was not right here.

\--

“The next part is hardest.” Architect said in broken Dalish dialect of elvish as it led Siona along the dark tunnels which all looked alike to her. “There is a checkpoint between this area and pathways leading outside the city. It is occupied by servants of Huntress.”  
“How will we get past them?” Siona asked.  
“It is unfortunate truth that my brethren take female prisoners, and those falsely ruling over us have been complaining about shriek supply running low ever since the Dalish were hunted down and the number of available elves above ground diminished.”, Architect said in apologetic tone. “Considering your age and gender, you would be a prime candidate to become a Broodmother and birth litters of darkspawn. Not all females survive the transformation, but strong fighters usually do. That is why the extinction of the Dalish is so unfortunate to our species.”  
“I would never agree to something so foul.” Siona said. She was absolutely repulsed. This sounded far worse than slimy thing her brothers had explained.  
“Naturally you would not.” Architect said in polite manner. “That is why we must make your capture look believable. I apologize for the pain we must inflict, but like you said, you would never voluntarily agree, and Andruil’s servants know it too.”  
It nodded towards two darkspawn accompanying them.  
“My Disciples, the Seeker and the Messenger, will proceed with assault. I suggest you brace yourself. We do not have much time, and if you fight back and resist, those following us will gain ground.”

 

Siona had never had her eye swollen shut before, and it was painful experience she decided she didn’t care to repeat any time soon. Blood dripped from her nose on the floor and she fought the urge to throw up as Disciples picked up the pace, pulling her between them.  
_“Don’t try to walk. Just let them drag you forwards.”,_ Dirthamen advised. _“It will save your strength and make it look genuine.”_  
“It’s easy for you to say. You are dead, and this entire thing is your fault. I told you it was a trap, and we shouldn’t have gone alone.”, Siona replied acidly. Talking hurt.  
_“It was an error in my judgement, yes.”_  
“Now I never can go home again.” she said, feeling tears stinging her eyes. They burned as they fell on floor, and with her good eye, she saw they shone faintly golden before the glow died.  
_“Don’t cry.”_ Dirthamen said quickly. _“Whatever you do, don’t cry. It will be all right, sister. After you kill the dragon, I will fix everything, and we can both go home.”_  
“Still all you want is that damned dragon.” she said bitterly.  
The darkspawn had ignored her one-way conversation. They were probably used to people gone mad if they kidnapped people and made them Broodmothers. Siona didn’t think anyone could survive that with their mind intact.  
“We approach the checkpoint. Be quiet.” Architect said, and Siona did as she was told.

\--

 

“Halt!” one of Alerion hunters commanded when she saw a small group of darkspawn approaching. Enethriel saw they were dragging a woman between them. A prisoner delivery, then. The thought made him feel sick, but war required sacrifices. Andruil taught them so.  
“A prisoner for shriek production.” the tall darkspawn leading the group informed him.  
“Shrieks?” Enethriel said, feeling disgusted. “I hope you remember the Huntress has decreed that you can’t take Dalish women.”  
“This one doesn’t have vallaslin.” the darkspawn said firmly. “May we pass?”  
“I want to see it myself.” Enethriel said. He was the Keeper of Alerion, and it would not be first time when the darkspawn tried to steal away one of the People because flat ears in their cities were hard to catch.  
The darkspawn was reluctant, but stepped out of his way when Enethriel walked to prisoner. He was under protection of Huntress herself, and this creature seemed to know it. One of sentients, then.

The clothes she wore had been fine once, but now they were torn and bloodied. The cut or fabric weren’t the style of People. Probably a house slave belonging to Tevinter nobility. She flinched when Enethriel touched her chin to with careful fingers to lift her face up.  
“Bring the torch closer.”, he commanded one of his hunters. “I need to see her face.”  
When the light touched her features, Enethriel drew a sharp breath. Her face was bloody and bruised, devoid of vallaslin, and a lot older than he remembered. But one could not mistake the distinctive colour of her hair. It was a particular shade of silvery blond which did not occur naturally. He had seen it before, in the woods of Tirashan when Elgar’nan came for his daughter and killed seven hunters of Clan Alerion. The girl had wounded Enethriel in stomach with her short sword.  
“You can’t have this one. She belongs to Andruil.” he said to darkspawn. “Return to your duties and find another.”  
There was a terrified flash of recognition in girl’s eyes. Clearly she remembered their meeting in the woods as well as he did. She moved fast, pulling herself away from her captors. She stole a sword from hilt belonging to darkspawn on her right, and pressed her back against wall, brandishing her sword at Enethriel.  
“Get away from me, you tainted servant of twisted god.” she spat blood on the floor.  
“The girl is Elgar’nan’s only daughter.” Enethriel informed his clan. “Revasan. Run to Huntress and tell her what we have found.”

The darkspawn looked at their leader, who sighed and disappeared back to the shadows, leaving the elves alone with their prisoner.

\--

 

The pull of her spell got stronger and stronger, until it sang in her ears so loudly that it almost drowned the voices coming behind the wide stone doors. Ellana pushed them open with force of her magic, holding her staff ready, but the sight still shocked her.

There was a small clan of Dalish gathered in a wide, stone-built corridor which could only be a part of Deep Roads. Their hunters had cornered Siona, who was no longer a child, but a young woman whose features Ellana had seen appearing on parchment by Fen’Harel’s skilled hand. She held a sword in her hand, and a stance of experienced fighter.  
“Clan Alerion.” the words escaped from her lips. She knew those patterns in their clothes, the feathers marking their spears. The revelation felt like someone had suddenly dumped her in freezing water. And their Keeper.  
“Keeper Zarel?” she asked louder, causing the elves turn towards her. “Zarel, is that you?”  
“Mother?” the man turned to face Ellana, the shock on his face mirroring her own. For a moment, she thought he was Zarel, but he wasn’t. He had golden eyes like Abelas’, and her own nose. The staff he held was the one Ellana had given him when they had saved Clan Alerion from Venatori attack.  
“Enethriel.”, Ellana said. “I thought you died. Oh, da’len, ma da’len. How happy I am to see you.”  
She crossed the distance between them, and when Enethriel lowered his staff and embraced her, Ellana felt the stone around her heart cracking. To hold her firstborn son, the son she had lost, once again. And he held her back, with warmth and love she had not expected or dared to hope for.  
“How fine man you have become.” she didn’t know if she wept or laughed. “A Keeper of your own clan. I’m so proud of you, Enethriel. You have kept the ways of People. Your father would be so proud of you, too.”  
He laughed, the sound pleased and warm, and didn’t let go of her.  
“Aneth ara, mamae. You are always welcome among my Clan.”

Siona stared at her mother embracing the leader of Andruil’s slaves, and she understood she had been betrayed. Mother called him son, and praised him, smiling like she never had smiled at her. The man had tried to capture her twice, and his clan had fought papae in shemlen forest. Mother was a double-crosser, betrayer, a snake who had wormed her way into pantheon and papae’s good graces.  
_“You are correct.”_ Dirthamen whispered grimly. _“She clearly has an alliance with them, and we are screwed.”_  
She wanted to ask what ‘screwed’ meant, but this was not the time. Desperate to escape, she took advantage of hunters’ momentary distraction and cut down the one standing between her and the corridor leading to direction from where she had arrived. Blood spurted from hunter’s chest and he fell on her knees, screaming, but Siona was already running into dark.

She ran blindly forwards, trying her hardest to get distance between herself and Andruil’s creatures. Siona heard them yelling behind her, and some of them tried to pursue her, but she was fast. The Dalish favoured light armor, while she was used to sentinels’ unforgiving training and running while wearing papae’s full plate. Without that added weight, she was faster than them, although she didn’t have faintest idea of where she was going in pitch-black dark.  
Her escape was cut short by something hard in her way. She slammed against it face first, and the impact on her bruises made her wail.  
“What I have told you about running in strange places?” a familiar dry voice asked unhappily. “It will only get you in trouble. And it seems to me that you are in a world of trouble, little one.”

\--

Andruil arrived just in time to see a chaotic scene. A few Dalish hunters were just disappearing in dark in pursuit of something or someone, while her servant was kneeling next to Andruil’s newest sister in Pantheon. Fen’Harel’s vhenan was healing a hunter who had been wounded in chest.  
“What is the meaning of this, Enethriel?” Huntress asked. “You sent me a message about Elgar’nan’s daughter.  
“Yes, mistress. I beg your forgiveness, but I was distracted and she escaped towards east. My hunters are pursuing her now.” Enethriel knelt in front of her.  
“Andruil?” her newest sister raised her gaze. The woman had clearly not expected her to arrive.  
“Mother, this is the Huntress. She saved our clan from shemlen templars who pursued us after Rise. She was the only god to answer our pleas, and Clan Alerion has served her ever since. We own her our lives.” Enethriel said, his eyes shining with love. Usually Andruil didn’t like seeing him like that, but this time, she could bear it.  
“I see.” the woman said slowly, finishing her work on Dalish hunter.  
“I doubt you do, sister.” Andruil said with a smile. “Let us talk. I understand that one of your children has ran off to the Deep Roads – a foolish thing to do with mindless ones around – and you have just been reacquainted with Enethriel. I have an offer for you, if you have a mind to listen.”  
Huntress saw her sister counting the Dalish surrounding them, and Andruil knew what numbers told her. She was outmatched.  
“Listening rarely hurts.” she said, unthinkingly quoting Fen’Harel.  
“Precisely. There are two sides to every story. I assure you; if you don’t like what I have to offer, you can walk away. I swear it on your son’s life.” Andruil promised. “Two hours is all I ask, and then you can leave unharmed.”  
The woman nodded, not having any other choice than to agree, and Andruil gestured her to follow.

\--

“Where are you taking me?” Siona asked when Senris started to lead her along a corridor.  
“Home.”  
“I can’t go home! I killed Dirthamen because he told me to, and now he’s talking in my head. He says I can’t go home until I killed a dragon for him and he’ll explain everything to papae.”  
“Does he say so?” Senris stopped, his expression annoyed. “Of course he would say so. That boy has always been a bit too greedy for his own good. Give me what you have of his.”  
Siona bit her lip, but it was Senris, and Senris always knew what to do. Hesitating, she took a bloody handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to Senris.  
“A tongue.” Senris said dryly. “That boy is just impossible to shut up.”  
He took a healing potion from his belt and uncorked it, pouring a bit on the ground. Then he squeezed Dirthamen’s tongue in the bottle and put the cork back on.  
“That will keep it fresh and stop him from sneaking into your mind. You can give the bottle to Falon’Din. He should deal with this. It’s his job.”  
He gave the bottle back to Siona and continued walking in rapid pace. Siona put the bottle in her pocket and hurried along, taking Senris’ hand. It was impossible to think him as a Forgotten One, although she should, but everything was so frightening and she didn’t know what to believe in.  
“I spoke to papae.” she said quickly. “We want you to come back. He is not angry at you, Senris. He is worried about you, and we both miss you.”  
Senris didn’t answer, but Siona pressed on.  
“I asked papae if I could talk with you, and he promised to try to arrange it. I wanted to tell you that I forgive you.”  
Senris stopped abruptly, turning towards her.  
“You have no idea what you are talking about, Siona.” he said. “You can’t just forgive people for murdering you.”  
“But I do.”, she said, facing Senris. “If I was old enough to save papae and kill people, I should be old enough to decide whether I can forgive you or not. I want you to come back home. I want everything to be the way it was. I want to be happy, and we can’t be happy without you. You are our Senris.”  
Senris was silent.  
“You did it to save papae. You love him. I love him too. It was not your fault. It was wrong and horrible that you had to do it, but it was not your fault.” she said. “Without you, all the little things are just wrong. I got too small dress, and nobody brought the ugly blanket or ice cream when we cried. I have horrible headaches and I accidentally set my bed in fire because I didn’t wear sunglasses. You have to come home. I miss you, and I’m not mad at you. Please, Senris. Please come home.”  
“Da’len, it’s complicated.”  
“It doesn’t have to be.” she was on edge of tears. “You said that you never wanted to be a god, because they always plot and make things complicated. Have you changed your mind now? It doesn’t have to be like this. We have kept your secret so nobody knows. You can stop being a Forgotten One and come home with me any time you want. Or don’t you want to be with us anymore? Is that the reason? Don’t you love me anymore because I died and now I won’t grow up or change?”  
“It’s not that.” Senris said.  
“Then what is it?” she asked desperately. “What can I do? I want to be happy, and I can’t be happy without you. You and papae and sentinels are my family.”  
“I promise I will think of it, little one.” Senris said with a sigh. “But this is not the time or place for this. We are in the middle of a war. What did I teach you about distracting others during a battle?”  
“I’m sorry, Senris.” Siona said, feeling embarrassed.  
“It was good to hear your words, da’len.” he said, taking her arm. “I appreciate it. But we truly must get going. This is not a place for a child.”

The tunnel he had chosen led to Tevinter mainland. When Siona and Senris reached the surface, they saw the island of Minrathous burning in the distance. The sounds of battle carried over the water, and Siona saw dragons of different colours circling over the city. She wondered if all papae’s sentinels were there. There were golden ones, which could mean grandfather or Kallian.  
“The outcome is not your concern, and there is nothing you can do to change it.”, Senris said. “I will take you home to wait for your father.”  
“But if they throw me out for killing Dirthamen?” she asked hopelessly.  
“I will stay with you until Elgar’nan returns.” he promised, taking off his new armor made of Void. Senris put it away somewhere in between, like Siona had seen Creators secure their orbs in safe place when they didn’t need them, and shifted his form. She followed his example, and they began a long flight towards Arlathan.

 


	44. A letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andruil and Ellana have a chat.  
> Ellana finds out that war between gods is far worse than between mages and templars.  
> A love letter is delivered to Elgar'nan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally figured out how the story ends! We will get back to Dorian and other shemlen later, but I needed something happy to recover from the final chapter of the story I wrote today. On my personal angst scale, I would compare it to chapter 18, which is _bad_. But now I know what happens, and I can guide the story to right direction and write the remaining chapters. As soon as this horrible weepy feeling goes away. I think I need a second glass of wine and more tissues.
> 
> I had far too much fun writing the letter in today's chapter. The strike lines are a window into Senris' mind. Now that I think of it, Senris reminds me of Malavai Quinn from SWTOR. Love them both because they are formal and unbelievably cranky.

Two black dragons, a predatory black drake and a small dragonling which was barely a size of a panther, landed on training ground. The barrier system had recognized them, but one could never be too careful, so June had restricted their entry to area which was well guarded by Dalish archers.  
“Change and identify yourselves.” Fen’Harel said, stepping forwards. The Dalish had their bows aimed at them, but the arrows wouldn’t do much against a dragon. Maybe the smaller one, whose scales looked still soft, but not the bigger one.  
Fen’Harel held his power ready as he felt their mana shifting, and was greeted by Senris’ extremely annoyed expression.  
“This is a welcome we get after three years fighting for our lord?” he asked dryly and caught Siona before she fell. Fen’Harel could see she was exhausted. Her muscles were trembling after a long flight, and she looked badly beaten. Senris lifted her up in his arms and looked at Fen’Harel.  
“Do you wish to have an interrogation, or will you let us pass so I can care for her? My lady needs rest, a change of clothes and a healer.”  
“Of course.” Fen’Harel replied. “You do understand I have to take precautions in current situation.”  
“There is a difference between taking precautions and insulting people.” Senris replied bitingly and started to walk towards the high hill where Elgar’nan’s temple was.  
“What news of the battle?” Fen’Harel followed them.  
“We don’t know.” Siona replied in tired voice. There was flash of light in her eyes, which drew Fen’Harel’s attention, but she promptly closed her eyes and hid her face against Senris’ chest.  
“Are you all right?” Fen’Harel asked.  
“I’m not. I have awful headache and Dirthamen is dead.” she replied. “We walked straight in a trap, and he died. I ran away to the Deep Roads and got lost. Senris found me, but we haven’t seen papae or Falon’Din.”  
“This is not the time, Dread Wolf.”, Senris said firmly. “You may ask your questions tomorrow.”  
Fen’Harel looked annoyed, but stayed behind as Senris began the climb up the hill.

\--

“Where are the dwarves?” Ellana asked.  
“Gone back to their city. We have an understanding with them. Geldauran controls the darkspawn, and dwarves are most grateful for deal we offered to them.”, Andruil answered.  
Ellana’s eyes narrowed, and she didn’t reply.  
“Every story has two sides.” Andruil continued, sitting comfortably in a room which had been the seat of power for dwarven ambassador. “You have undoubtedly been told how I hunted Forgotten Ones in the Void and suffered longer and longer periods of madness upon returning. I put on an armor made of Void, and all forgot my true face. The story says I howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful that I would hunt them in turn, and that was why Mythal tricked me.”  
“That is what I have heard.” Ellana nodded carefully.  
“What if I told you that I did, indeed, hunt Forgotten Ones in the Void? But instead of madness, I found things others didn’t want me to know. Old, forgotten secrets Mythal and Elgar’nan didn’t want anyone to know.”  
“Like what?”  
“There is no difference between Forgotten Ones and Creators, sister. It is all a matter of favouritism. Geldauran suggested that godhood is not given, but earned with one’s own actions, and she became a Forgotten One. But Senris stayed at Elgar’nan’s side, and nobody calls him Forgotten One, or a god at all, even though he is the one who has truly earned the name. Fen’Harel, who was sympathetic to our cause, is forever an outsider to everyone.”  
“Senris?” Ellana’s eyes widened. “The leader of Elgar’nan’s sentinels?”  
“The very same one. When I started howling his true name to everyone to hear, only then Elgar’nan and Mythal reacted. Not when I made weapons out of Void, not when I hunted my own people. The fear of their lie being revealed motivated them to act. Not the welfare of People. They moved to protect their own servant and friend, and I was labelled mad.”  
_We had three close friends, and the most vocal of them was Geldauran. She was the second one to step out from Fade and become flesh. A spirit of Wisdom_. Ellana remembered Mythal’s words when she had come to tell them about Senris taking Siona away.  
_Another friend we all loved, died. People started to pick sides and whom to serve. The first sentinels on both sides were born of my distrust in those early days of war._  
“I can see from your expression that you aren’t as surprised as you would like to be.” Andruil said lightly. “Think of it, sister. I went to Void because it was my duty to hunt the enemies of our pantheon. I was ready to do anything for the People. But I was poorly repaid for my sacrifices. As poorly as you were paid for your help in raising Arlathan and doing your duty. You gave your body to Mythal, who sent the men of Tevinter to hunt you down, and to Elgar’nan, who repaid you by stealing your child and any love she could have held for you.”  
“It wasn’t like that.” Ellana said, shaking her head.  
“Wasn’t it?” Andruil arched her eyebrows. “It surely looked like that to me. You broke the Veil and came back, saving Fen’Harel from our wrath. How have your sacrifices been honoured? I understand you are not official member of the pantheon. I have been told that you weren’t considered important enough to present yourself in Mythal’s court when they ruled about rights for the child you had given birth to. How has the pantheon reacted to you being mutilated, violated and raped by a human? Compare their willingness to avenge you to this moment, where the one suffering and falling was Dirthamen?”  
Ellana was pale.  
“I don’t want to hear this. You are twisting things.”  
“I am not.” Andruil said. “I’m merely telling you a truth you don’t want to hear. When you go back, you will be branded for a traitor for simply talking with me, and they will view you with suspicion because I’m a madwoman in their eyes. If you go back, it will be dangerous for you, but it is your choice.”  
“And why are you telling me these things?”  
“I have tried to get my voice heard for a long time.” Andruil stated. “I want people to listen my side of the story. Elgar’nan and Mythal are not ever-benevolent parent figures People want them to be. Geldauran is not a creature born of mosquitoes, taint and mud. I’m willing to reach out, but the pantheon is not. I will even prove my good intentions to you.”  
“How?”  
“I understand Elgar’nan stole your child from you. I hold no such claim over Enethriel. I heard his prayers when he was eleven, and the templars of Elven Heresy Resolution hunted the remains of his clan. His father had been slain, and he pledged himself into my service for life if I only helped him. He will stay in my service, but you are free to join his clan if you wish or spend time with him. With no strings attached. I will not hunt you if you do, or try to influence you in any way. You will not probably see or hear from me at all. In return, I ask that if you keep in touch with him through Fade or other means, you will not use my good will to further the war effort or collect information for your side.”  
“It sounds more than fair.” Ellana said. She did not trust her, but the offer was too important for her to turn down.  
“We are in agreement, then?” Andruil stood up. “Think of what we have spoken. And if you find out that pantheon is not what you believe in, my door is always open for you. Now you are free to leave.”  
“What about my daughter?” Ellana asked.  
“If I find her, I will not hurt her. I can’t speak for the others.” Andruil replied.  
“I understand.” Ellana sighed.  
No matter how she tried, she could not understand her daughter. Every little gesture she did seemed to be wrong in Siona’s eyes, and it hurt to see that Deep Roads filled of darkspawn were preferable option to company of her mother and brother. She would go back and ask help from the sentinels. Elgar’nan should be able to locate her.

She exchanged few words with Enethriel, and promised that she would seek him out in the Fade. Not wanting to push her luck, she kissed his cheek, said her goodbyes, and started to climb up the stairs to upper levels of dwarven embassy. The Clan was leaving too, Andruil said. She didn’t know what to make of Huntress waving at her as she left, because the contrast to their earlier meeting with Fen’Harel was so stark, but Ellana decided she should just be happy for her luck. It could have gone far worse, and Andruil was mad. Maybe her moods changed rapidly.

When she reached the entrance hall and stepped through the double doors to Minrathous, Ellana understood that the city of Minrathous had not been nearly as lucky as herself. While she had been talking with Andruil, Minrathous had started to sink beneath waves. The pride of Tevinter, the unconquered city built on island, was almost gone. The tallest buildings once held up by magic were crumbling ruins now, and the sea was claiming the rest. When she looked around, there was nothing left except few peaks of ruined towers, and the dwarven embassy was mere four stairs from being swallowed by sea. The Argent Sphere, where Leliana had cut off her hand after her capture, was the only building still sticking out of the water.  
“What in the Void has happened here?” Ellana Lavellan asked, but there was nobody to answer her question except the pale bodies of the dead floating in the water.

\--

The first battle of war was over. Whether it was a victory, Elgar’nan could not say. He didn’t remember much of anything after tainted Razikale had dropped Dirthamen’s body at his feet. His memories were awash with red, red like Dirthamen’s bloody mouth.

Upon his return, Elgar’nan had been informed that the battle between Creators and Forgotten Ones had died down soon after the earth had been torn and the city had started to sink beneath waves. It was no use to fight over a territory such as that, and both sides had withdrawn to lick their wounds. What the shemlen of Minrathous had done, Elgar’nan didn’t know, and frankly he didn’t care.

He was exhausted, but could not sleep. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. His heart was heavy and sorrow weighed on his shoulders, making Elgar’nan feel old. Losing two children in one day was not something a father could bear. But he had drank his fill of vengeance, and now he felt sick. The faint aura of light was flashing in the edges of his vision. It was a herald of a monstrous headache which inevitably followed using too much sun’s essence. Without thinking, he opened the door leading to Siona’s room.

The room was dim. Only light came from the crystals embedded in wall by the bed, and the glass doors leading to garden were slightly ajar. The thin white curtains were moving in draft. Someone had pulled an armchair next to bed, and there was a well-worn book on the bedside table. Elgar’nan recognized it. It was children’s book of tales from first Elvhenan, the one he had been reading to Siona before leaving to Golden City. They had barely started it, but the bookmark sticking out between the pages was much further, now. No. It wasn’t a bookmark. It looked like an envelope.  
Elgar’nan moved closer, and when he turned towards bed, thinking to brighten the lights, he felt his heart jumping into his throat. He sat down on the armchair, feeling dizzy. The seat was still warm.

His daughter slept in her own bed, wearing one of his tunics for a nightshirt. Her slightly wet hair was braided loosely, and her expression was peaceful as she dreamed. There was a faint scent of elfroot salve in the air, but she looked fine, and he didn’t have a heart to wake her up.  
Elgar’nan pulled the envelope out and opened it with a letter knife someone had mindfully placed next to the book. He held two sheets of paper filled with Senris’ familiar script.

 

 

> ~~My lord~~ Elgar’nan.  
>  Siona is fine. She has been fed, bathed and healed. I made her drink her tea, so she won’t get trouble in the Fade. After that, I proceeded read the book, reaching page 54 before she fell asleep. I ~~know~~ suspect you didn’t mark the place before you pulled the envelope out, so do it now.

 

Elgar’nan did as he was told, and pushed the empty envelope back between the right pages. Then he continued reading the letter.

 

 

> I took her to rune room to blow a bit of steam into temple central heating to get rid of her headache. What in the Void were you thinking, ~~my lord~~? Resurrecting her with an essence of sun? I would point out the sheer stupidity of your action with much sharper words if I wasn’t pleased to have her back. It was  still a stupid thing to do, and you should have waited until her spirit was reborn in some other form. That would have been a smart choice, but I fear that my original plea to bind me started you on path of less advisable choices when it comes to losing people. I offer my sincere apologies if it is true.
> 
> The state of your household is atrocious. On my watch, your children would not have been allowed to play in unfamiliar and likely hostile city filled with shemlen mages. Dirthamen walked straight into trap and left his sister to run after him in the Deep Roads. It was simply ~~witless~~ unacceptable behaviour. Then when he got captured, he begged Siona to kill him, traumatizing the poor child even further and setting Forgotten Ones after her. She picked up his severed tongue and thought she was going mad when he suddenly started giving her instructions. Namely he wanted her to go to Western Approach and slay Lusacan which is sleeping in there. I suspect Dirthamen wanted to have a new, conveniently powered body without the trouble he ~~highly deserves~~ would have growing up in traditional way. I expect you to deal with this, ~~my lord~~. Dirthamen has always been selfish ~~brat~~ , but this is going too far. If I hadn’t run into Siona by accident, little lady would have been wandering around the Deep Roads in company of rebellious darkspawn, because she believed she wasn’t welcome at home. ~~!!!!~~
> 
> I highly recommend that you should arrange his ~~sadly inevitable~~ rebirth in traditional way and raise him yourself, because Mythal did ~~a botched job~~ not succeed well and few years eating mud while wearing swaddling clothes would do wonders to Dirthamen’s character. His tongue is preserved in a bottle in the strongbox behind your favourite tapestry. If you have forgotten the opening code ~~again~~ and the mechanism gets stuck ~~it’s too bad,~~ I suggest you ask June to open it. The man who weaved the tapestry is dead and the current generation of artisans are not familiar with technique, so nobody can repair the damage if you accidentally ignite priceless work of art while trying to open the box by force. ~~As you are wont to do if left unchecked.~~
> 
> As for future needs, I suggest you should order a little lady her own set of full plate armor, a high-draw longbow (like shrewd agile greatbow you gifted to Andruil in 3000s. It develops strength and she is quite good with a bow, although her aim still veers to right), and a bastard sword used with one or both hands. She always forgets her shield somewhere, and I think its futile fight to try to train her as a defender. Siona does adequately in shield wall, but she would make a much better hit man at some point. Or ‘a special enforcer’ if you like the term better. And before you start yelling, my lord, I have to remind you that you gave her the essence of sun. Those impulses need to be channelled into productive work when she grows up. Both of you can’t expulse your frustrations into temple central heating system ~~if you want it to be temple instead of volcano~~ , and you can’t let the rest of pantheon know. Her fragile mental state gives you an excellent reason to keep her away from public eye, and later it can be used to cover up things the pantheon does not need to know. Lord Enfanim we raised in Sunless Lands is quite different person from daughter you know. He is a swaggering fellow. ~~A blend of you and Fen’Harel when he was young. Can’t decide if I’ll die of laughter or desperation.~~
> 
> I also recommend that you have a talk with her mother. Siona told me that Ellana has an older mortal son, who serves Andruil. The same ~~lout~~ who tried to attack you in Tirashan forest. She was most upset for the fact that Ellana embraced him with open arms although the man had just sent a runner to deliver Siona to Andruil.
> 
> As for me, I haven’t made up my mind yet. Siona has been ~~talking my ears off~~ trying to convince me of her forgiveness, ~~and I’m almost believing her,~~ but it is not a simple thing. It never is, as you well know, ~~my lord~~. I’m ready to consider ~~accept~~ her suggestion, but this isn’t solely between her and me. The next move is yours, ~~my lord.~~ I need to be sure ~~of your opinion~~ before I make decisions. I can’t afford to be torn ~~into two~~ like this ~~. Geldauran is driving me mad with her pedantic nature and she dared to complain when I attempted to organise her files like I did yours – I know you don’t know you have files, but that is how they stay organized – and the darkspawn are leaving sticky taint everywhere and they are  hopelessly disorganized even compared to you. I miss you, my lord. Even though you try to educate me with latest smutty literature and you are a pain in the ass most of the time. I DID NOT MEAN IT LITERALLY. ONE DRUNKEN EXPERIMENT DOES NOT COUNT. I miss you.~~

> S.
> 
>  

Elgar’nan smiled and took a pen. He wrote neatly on the bottom of the second page.

 

 

> It wasn’t one drunken experiment. More like six or seven separate occasions in a span of ten thousand years. But you only get feisty when you’re drunk, so it’s understandable you don’t remember. I still have few bottles of your favourite liquor stashed in secret hide if you are willing to give it (and me) another chance. I’m mortified to think you could have forgotten.
> 
> I miss and love you, too. Come home.
> 
> Your lord.
> 
>  

He left the letter on the nightstand, and fell asleep in the armchair. When Elgar’nan woke up in the morning, he was not surprised to notice someone had pulled the ugly Dalish blanket over him to keep off the draught and filed the letter under ‘personal correspondence’-label in the cabinet of his study. The door to garden was neatly closed, and there was no sign of Senris.


	45. Come here, said the spider to a fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana finds out that getting where she wanted to go, might not have been such a good idea after all.

Ellana Lavellan sat on the roof of dwarven embassy and watched how water rose to swallow once proud Minrathous. The humans had succeeded to launch two ships in time to escape the watery death, and now they were rowing boats in midst the sharp points of sunken towers, fishing up the bodies of drowned. The olive-skinned men had seen her, but Ellana did not fear. She recognized a person broken by loss when she saw one.

One of boats rowed closer, and Ellana was slightly startled as she heard once-familiar voice telling the rower stop.  
“Greetings.”, Dorian said, standing up in a boat. His black vestments were dirty and his moustache sloped on left. The Dorian she remembered would have died before being seen like that.  
“Andaran atishan, Dorian.” Ellana replied seriously. Enter this place in peace. After everything that had happened, it felt surrealistic to see him here. She could scarcely remember the person she had been when they were friends. Before temple of Mythal, Crestwood grove, everything. Last time she had seen him was when the elves attacked Halamshiral to enact the rite and open Elgar’nan’s orb. During her imprisonment by Chantry, she had been kept in Argent Sphere before Chantry had taken her to Val Royeaux. Dorian had not been Black Divine then. It had been Leliana who cut off her anchored hand in Black Divine’s prison. She wondered what they had done with it.  
Dorian was thinking the same thing, because he said:  
“I thought you had only one hand.”  
“It grew back. Without an anchor.” she replied.  
There were bodies in Dorian’s boat, and Ellana’s heart ached as he saw pointed ears on a little corpse, piled under humans. One of the slave children she had not saved in time.  
“I came to ask about the dead.” Dorian said slowly. “What should we do to elves?”  
“Those who died here were Andrastians, I think. There are no others left on Thedas.” Ellana said. Seeing the ruin around her had made her too numb to feel the hatred and anger she should feel.  
“Stupid question.” Dorian said, trying to smile but not quite succeeding.  
“What happened here, Dorian?”  
His shoulders slumped in defeat.  
“Everything which should not have happened. Elgar’nan appeared here with his children. He blinded Morrigan’s son.”  
“Kieran?” Ellana’s heart was caught in painful trap.  
“Yes.”, Dorian sniffed. “I was there when Morrigan died. I promised her to take care of Kieran. He made a stupid mistake, angered Elgar’nan, and got his sight burned away. He was still in infirmary when the darkspawn attacked and water rose. He had no chance at all.”  
Ellana closed her eyes, shaking her head. Kieran. She should have done something for Morrigan’s son. Her sister’s son had not deserved such a fate. But forgetting Kieran was something she could not fix. It was too late.  
“My mother had this bright idea of inventing Elgar’nan to her estate, to gain fame in best circles.” Dorian continued. “Went all right until two of his kids went missing and darkspawn attacked. I saw an archdemon. A genuine archdemon which had slept under Tevinter. It dropped the dead boy at Elgar’nan’s feet and they went mad. Then the Forgotten Ones came.”  
Dorian sat down on a bow of the boat.  
“I know my culture stole a lot from yours.” he said with resigned, tired honesty. “But I always thought that whatever you are; no matter if you call yourselves gods, you were just a like us. Very good magisters, but just magisters. But no magister should be able to rip open the ground like Geldauran, or steal the light of sun like Elgar’nan did. Although I knew what an orb could do, I never thought it would be like this. This is just wrong.”  
“I know.” Ellana nodded quietly. It was the very thing what bothered her. She had seen her share of war with Inquisition, but it had been a war she could understand. The losses and victories were harsh, but the means required to achieve them were understandable, something within a man’s grasp if he was talented enough. But this had not been a true battle with armies. From what she understood, it had been merely a challenge shouted out loud, a skirmish which would begin a full-scale war, and Ellana Lavellan did not want to know what a full-scale war would be like.  
“You aren’t godly enough not to care.” Dorian remarked, trying to summon a ghost of his old grin.  
“I guess I’m not.”  
They were silent for a moment before Dorian spoke.  
“I’m very sorry for what I did to you and your people, Ellana.”  
“I’m very sorry for what happened here.” she replied, standing up. “And I fear it’s only going to get worse.”  
“I fear so, too.” Dorian said. “The Blight is here now, and it has only began.”  
She nodded to Dorian, changed her form, and took a wing towards Arlathan.

 

\--

Siona felt someone nudging her shoulder. Carefully, she opened her fingers slightly to peer at Falon’Din, who took a hold of her arm and led her away from the central chamber of Mythal’s temple.  
“You can take your hands off your eyes now. They caught Dirthamen’s spirit and we can leave.”  
“This must have been the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done.” Siona said unhappily.  
“It was your fault. You killed him and picked up the tongue where his consciousness was stored, so his spirit clung to you. Besides, they had to have a virgin with enough magical ability to do the incantation. Do you have any idea how hard is to find one with a population demography like ours? For last decade, mother has been encouraging mortal elves to shag like bunnies to promote population growth, and first generation of immortals are babies with you as an only exception.”  
“I still did not want to be in same room as papae and Mythal doing a greater fertility rite, much less to assist in It.”, she sniffed and pulled the ceremonial adept robes over her head. “It was hard to learn all my lines, and I didn’t like blessing Mythal’s stomach with kisses. We don’t get along that well.”  
“Be grateful we don’t have to be there for the rest of it.”, Falon’Din advised and dropped his robes in a washing basket.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Sister, how do you think they’ll resurrect Dirthamen now that they have his soul captured? With a greater fertility rite as a base spell?” Falon’Din asked.  
“Yuck.” the realization dawned on Siona. “Just... yuck.”  
“And I’m stuck with you in the meantime. I hope old age has finally caught up with father; otherwise I have to suffer your presence for far too long.” Falon’Din noted gloomily.  
“What you mean about old age?”  
“Loss of virility, you ignorant child.” Falon’Din explained.  
“I don’t think papae is that old?” Siona said carefully. “He did have me, after all, and he once remarked that it wasn’t easy because my mother wore Dalish granny pants. Even Senris remembered them. He said they were horrible.”  
“Drats.”  
“Can’t we go to market and buy sugar flowers? The skull décor in your temple is tasteless enough to make my soul ache.”  
“Sorry, princess. You have ran away enough times to make father rigorous about this. He told me that you are under a strict house arrest until your 300th birthday. It’s my temple or your rooms in his temple, and you will learn to love my temple before this is over because it is only place you are allowed to visit.” Falon’Din said maliciously.  
Siona sighed when she saw Meinwen waiting for her at Mythal’s temple entrance. Meinwen and Leolin were Elgar’nan’s youngest sentinels, sisters born in his Thedosian temple mere months before the box accident, and eager to prove their worth. Siona had never had much to do with them, because they tended to get grunt work while the more experienced ones had attended her and papae. A week ago, Elgar’nan had transferred them to her and given them strict orders to shadow her every movement, night and day. He said Amanya, Venial and everyone else who had played part in her quest to travel to Sunless Lands were too familiar with Siona to be trusted with enforcing her house arrest without fail.  
“We are going to Falon’Din’s temple.” she told Meinwen, who nodded sternly and took up a place behind her. Siona looked wistfully towards the market square and sighed. Papae had said that if she didn’t break the rules, he might let her visit the city escorted by guards once a week, but only after she turned 300. She couldn’t go to Fen’Harel’s, or grandfathers. Grandfather or any other relatives she wanted to invite could come to see her once a month for an afternoon. It made her unhappy, but she understood why it was like this. Papae had explained that essence of sun was too volatile, and the headaches would keep coming until the transformation was complete. Her house arrest was a smokescreen to give her time to adjust and learn to control it, but also a punishment because she had ran away and endangered herself.  
It was going to be a long, long time without seeing artisan quarter, market stalls or visits to anyone else except Falon’Din. She was worried that Falon’Din might be right about learning to like tasteless skull décor.

 

“Did you know that your papae has told everyone that you are half-mad?” Lisel asked one day as she sat on the edge of Siona’s desk, swinging her feet back and forth.  
“Mentally fragile.” Siona corrected and cut the yarn with scissors, knotting the end. She lifted the apple green fabric closer to light and admired her work. A half-finished row of little ravens danced on the hem of baby’s smock. She was going to give it to Dirthamen when he would be born again. Papae said it might take few decades, so she was in no hurry. Siona liked sewing. Llowyn had been a tailor’s son before he won the great tournament and joined Elgar’nan’s sentinels. He had taught Siona and rest of the sentinels during their long journey to south.  
“Same thing.” Lisel shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll go mad from boredom sooner or later, stuck inside four walls.”  
“It is not so bad.” Siona replied absently, starting to stitch the next raven. Actually, she was finding her punishment strangely soothing. She knew there was a war going on, of course, but she had no idea of what was happening outside Elgar’nan’s temple. In the mornings she trained with sentinels, and when papae woke up, they had a brunch and he taught how to control light. She was getting hang of it, albeit slowly, and she only needed sunglasses when headaches came. In the afternoon, she read or sewed or whatever took her fancy until dinner. Days followed each other in predictable manner, and her life was quiet and peaceful. Although she still slept lightly, and had bad days often, she could tell she was getting better.  
“I think you want to be grounded.” Lisel narrowed her eyes.  
Siona felt defensive. She didn’t pay attention, and the stitch ended up looking crooked. Muttering shemlen curse words under her breath, she pulled the yarn out and smoothed the hole in fabric.  
“You never do anything fun anymore. I want to go to market, eat grapes and watch people. Come on! I know how you’ll get out. It’s really easy.”  
“Go to market if you like.” Siona snapped. She was starting to feel irritable, and it was not good. Finishing the little raven, she looked for a new hank of black silk thread, but there wasn’t any in her sewing box.  
“What’s your problem? You claim you travelled through Ferelden, and went to Tevinter, too. And now you are too scared to go to market. What a chicken.” Lisel said. “A lying chicken.”  
Siona looked hurt, but Lisel was getting angry and frustrated. She had waited for her to come home for three years, and now Siona wasn’t any fun at all.  
“What are you so afraid of? Do you think Forgotten Ones will snatch you the moment you put your nose out of door?” desire demon mocked.  
Siona flinched visibly. She swallowed, feeling panic rising as bad things filled her mind. She remembered the horrible noise Dirthamen had made when they cut his tongue out, and the gurgling sound when—  
“Get out, spirit. This visit is over.” Leolin commanded, stepping between Siona and Lisel. Lisel’s expression was stunned and almost comical as the sentinel drew the glyph of banishment in the air. It activated before Lisel had a chance to say a word, and with a flash of purple, the demon was gone.  
“My lady?”  
Siona blinked, trying to focus on Leolin’s voice. She had dropped Dirthamen’s gift on her lap. The last raven was unfinished, and needle hanged limply from thread. It was sharp, like an arrowhead...  
“My lady?” Leolin asked again, louder.  
Siona could remember... No, she felt her fingers hurting as she pulled the bowstring taut, and blood ran along Dirthamen’s jaw, staining his pale skin with red lines. She heard his voice in her mind, pleading, but she couldn’t do it, she shouldn’t do it, he was her brother and she loved him, like she loved Lovenna who had died too, except that death had been a river of blood and magic.

“Get a priest here!” she heard Leolin shouting to corridor, and there was sound of running. Like snow crunching under her feet as she followed Senris over the desolate landscape of Sunless Lands…  
Siona barely registered when room was suddenly filled with people. Amanya took Dirthamen’s unfinished smock away, and slipped to sit behind her, embracing Siona and holding her in iron grip.  
“Keep her still.” the priest in flaming robes commanded as he placed his hands against Siona’s temples. Siona felt unfamiliar touch upon her mind, pushing the bad thoughts away by force. It hurt, and she started to scream.  
“Stay still. Don’t move, little one, don’t move.” Amanya repeated, gripping her so hard it hurt. “It’s soon over. I have you. Just hold a bit longer and stay still.”  
“How bad is it?” Leolin asked.  
“One of larger scars has been partially re-opened and her spirit is starting to twist again. I have to fix it.”, the priest said.  
“Be quick about it.”, Amanya ordered. Her voice was fierce and she held Siona close to her chest, like a mother protecting her baby.  
“If we are ever going to get her mental wounds to scar and eventually heal, I can’t do a botched job in a hurry. Repairing and shielding already damaged part of a spirit is delicate work. I’m sorry, my lady, but this will hurt.” the priest said and his magic rose to drown Siona again.

\--

His daughter’s face was pale and drawn against the white sheets of her bed.  
“I’m sorry that I didn’t make it to dinner, papae.” she said, trying to smile for him.  
“It’s not your fault, princess.” Elgar’nan said, fighting the urge to kill someone. He had just arrived from Mythal’s, and had not yet heard which had caused the latest setback. “You simply had a bad day. It will not happen again.”  
“Could we continue the book tomorrow?” she asked in small voice. Meaning, as Elgar’nan deciphered from her dazed expression, that she wasn’t feeling well enough to listen him read but didn’t want to say it out loud. There were two empty measuring cups smelling of Amrita Vein syrup on bedside table. Another spirit tear, then. The spells used to repair mental damage and undo the twisting of one’s nature were incompatible with healing spells and it was only reason why his servants would have resorted to less effective herbal remedies. Whether they helped, Elgar’nan wasn’t that convinced. Physical pain from spell was one thing, but mental was usually worse.  
It was said that nothing hurt worse than love betrayed, and her murder in Senris’ hands and being forced to kill Dirthamen were grievous acts against her own nature. The transformation caused by sun’s essence was still in early stages, and it was of utmost importance that she would be whole by the time his bindings wore off.  
“Of course.” he replied. “Is there something you want? Something you would like?”  
“Could you stay until I fall asleep?” she asked.  
“Yes.”, he said, taking her hand in his as he sat down by the bed. “Can you tell me what upset you?”  
“It was Lisel.” Siona replied, trying to hold her eyes open against impeding sleep. “We had an argument. She wanted me to go out, but I wouldn’t, and then she said something about me being afraid of Forgotten Ones. I don’t remember what.”  
“It was good that you didn’t go along with her foolish idea.” Elgar’nan said, keeping his voice calm even though anger beat inside his mind.  
“I didn’t want to.” she said, her eyes wholly closed now. “It’s dangerous outside, and I think I was starting to feel a bit better before today.”  
With his free hand, Elgar’nan gestured at Llowyn standing at the door.  
_Hunt down the wretched creature and bring it to me.  
_ Nodding, Llowyn left the room and another sentinel took his place.

 

\--

“I appreciate this.” Abelas said as he gave little Soris to Ellana. “I can’t tell how long it will take before Mythal is willing to listen my plea. Could be days, maybe even weeks.”  
“If you wish, I can come and try to reason with Mythal.” Fen’Harel offered. He was holding the second twin, Junius.  
Abelas’ expression was grim.  
“It is kind offer, Fen’Harel, but asking another Creator to interfere in a matter concerning her sentinels will not help to sway Mythal in this.” he said. “And you said you were going below with your Thedosian guests to negotiate with shemlen Divine.”  
“But if there is anything we can do, father, you need only to ask.” Ellana said. “There are others willing to fight this war. There is no reason for her to demand a mother with new babies.”  
“You haven’t seen a lyrium warrior in action, Ellana.” Abelas replied. “We used to have those in old Elvhenan. Never many, but there were some. A living weapon able to phase through matter and flesh is not an asset any commander would give up lightly. Even if she is half-finished. I believe June and his priests are looking for volunteers to make more even now. And if there are no volunteers, others will be found.”  
“No.”, Fen’Harel’s tone was clipped. “A motion to draft people will not pass in the Chamber of Ruling.”  
“A noble sentiment, Fen’Harel, but I’m not a boy to be soothed by comforting lies. Mythal’s own son lies dead in his temple, and she is torn by grief. Even you would make that choice, if the stakes were high enough.” Abelas replied, crossing his arms over his chest.  
Fen’Harel sighed, bowing his head slightly.  
“My apologies.” he said. “I should not have talked so hastily. But my offer still stands. If you need my help trying to convince Mythal, or with anything, you will have it.”  
“Thank you, Fen’Harel. Ellana. But I must go now to see if they will let me enter.” Abelas nodded to Dread Wolf and his daughter.  
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Ellana said as she and Fen’Harel were left alone with Abelas’ children.  
“Theirs was never going to be a story with a happy ending, vhenan, but I fear the end might come sooner than anyone thought.” Fen’Harel said grimly. “We shall see.”

 

\--

Fen’Harel had already left to Thedas with Varric and Anders, and Ellana was just going to start reading Andruil’s book when distraught Cole appeared.  
“It’s the little Want.” the spirit blurted. “She didn’t want to go, but he made her.”  
“Lisel?” Ellana stood up, putting her book down.  
“He took the little Want, holding her arm so hard it hurt, a hurt blooming when a gauntlet struck her face. She did not want this.” Cole explained, his words frantic and agonized. “I tried to help, but I couldn’t. A glyph, sharp and cutting, binding in place.”  
“Cole. Calm down and tell me what happened. Where you were? Who took Lisel?”  
“In the market, watching people. Eating sweet things. Then a man in black armor came.”  
“Elgar’nan.” Ellana’s eyes narrowed. “Stay here, Cole. I will go and get Lisel back.”

 

She didn’t waste time as she walked through the city and climbed up the hill to Elgar’nan’s temple. She had not seen him after their journey to Golden City, and last time they had talked in private had been when she had given him Siona, leaving to defend Arlathan and break Magrallen. Since then, Ellana’s opinion of Elgar’nan had changed considerably. Once she had felt she understood him; she had thought him as her friend, but not after what had happened. A gift of divinity did not make up betraying her trust.  
The temple doors were open to petitioners as always, and with war, there were many elves present to beg a boon from God of Vengeance, Eldest of the Sun. Ellana ignored the people praying at his altars and headed straight towards the door which led to private part of Elgar’nan’s house. It was guarded by two sentinels. She thought she recognized one of them from Brecilian Forest, but she wasn’t quite sure. None of them was Senris.  
“I demand to see Elgar’nan.” she announced. “One of you has taken a spirit under my protection without its consent.”  
“Our lord is not receiving guests.” a female sentinel said.  
“You didn’t even ask from him. He will receive me.”, Ellana said firmly.  
“He is busy. We will not disturb our lord for your sake.” the sentinel replied.  
Ellana was growing frustrated.  
“I will see my daughter instead, then. Take me to her.”  
“Lady Siona is not available for visitors.” second sentinel replied.  
“I’m not a visitor. I am her mother, as you well know!” Ellana’s temper flared.  
“Our lord has given express orders that lady Siona is not receiving any visitors except pre-approved persons on fourth day of the month. You may apply in three weeks’ time, and you are expected to comply with conditions concerning the acceptable topics of discussion.” the first sentinel informed her.  
“By the lost Dales, you cursed idiots! I will not _apply_ to meet my own child.” Ellana lost it. She gathered her magic, and sent a mind blast at the idiots, ready to push past them.

 It was a mistake.

\--

 

When Ellana regained consciousness, she was being dragged between two sentinels along a corridor made of fine-grained, textured rock. A woman stopped to open a door with beautifully wrought bars and nodded to those holding Ellana. The sentinels pushed her inside, and the door was slammed shut.  
Ellana fell on her knees.  
“You will pay for this!” she hissed at the impassive woman in black armor.  
“There is no rule against striking a Creator which is not mine.” the sentinel replied. “You tried to force your way into our lord’s home. You will not destroy the temple or attempt to steal our little lady again. Not on my watch.”  
Ellana watched the woman through narrowed eyes as she stood up. She had not expected them to be so ruthless, or take her by surprise. Abelas had spoken the truth when he said that Elgar’nan’s sentinels were a lot of bloodthirsty hounds. Although she had a considerable amount of power, much had been spent to break the Veil, and even more to ruin Elgar’nan’s temple. Ellana had no followers, or a temple, and most of her training had been done during Inquisition. The sentinels might have lacked her raw strength, but they had numbers and skill on their side. Still, a defeat stung, and she would have gladly lived her life without being thrown in a cell ever again.  
“I demand to speak with Elgar’nan.” she said again.  
“You may wait for him here.” the woman said and turned away.

She was left alone in a cell made of black stone which was warm to touch. The air smelt of brimstone, and Ellana would have laughed at absurdity of the dungeon if the floor under her feet wasn’t growing unpleasantly warm. Few minutes later the sensation was bordering pain. She attempted to put a barrier to shield her skin, but her magic flared and died before she could pull energy from the Fade. The pretty iron bars, carved to look like flowers with thorns, had a dispel in the heart of each flower.  
She sat down, twisting her legs under her so that different part of her body touched the surface of floor, and then she heard someone screaming in the dungeon.

\--

 

Elgar’nan’s fingers dug in the soft flesh of her throat, and her teeth rattled as Lisel was slammed against the wall.  
“Don’t try to play games with me, Desire.” he said, his eyes bright with anger. “You can’t fool me with a disguise of a child. “  
“Stop hurting me!” Lisel wailed in child’s high voice.  
Elgar’nan ignored her. He concentrated for a moment and Lisel started to scream as her fingers on both hands started to twist outwards. There was a loud crack accompanied by howling.  
“Who sent you, Desire?” Elgar’nan asked, crushing her broken hand with his magic. “Take your true form and tell me who sent you here to lure my daughter.”  
Lisel shook her head wordlessly.  
“The knees next, Llowyn.” Elgar’nan said, turning away and striding towards the cabinet on wall. “This one is not reasonable.”  
“Wait!” Lisel screamed as she saw Elgar’nan opening the cabinet doors. “I will tell you everything. I swear.”  
“Your cooperation hardly makes any difference.” Elgar’nan said as he started taking items from the shelf. “I need to know if you are telling me the truth. Knees, Llowyn.”

“Who sent you?” Elgar’nan asked again much later.  
“No one.” a woman with purple, burning hair and curved horns whispered as she laid broken on the floor. “I saw a pup lost in the Fade. Curious and foolish. She wanted a friend. She wanted to be loved. Such a naïve child.”  
“And?” Elgar’nan stepped on her fingers.  
The demon made a hissing noise through her teeth.  
“I befriended her. I became Lisel for her. Took a flesh. I’m sure you know how it’s done, Eldest. Although you have treated my form so poorly. I thought better of you.”  
“That is your mistake, Desire.” Elgar’nan said. “I never thought better of _you_. Tell me why.”  
“You could tell me why, Eldest. A flesh taken becomes familiar. A role chosen becomes a second nature. I never hid myself or my true nature from her. I merely let her see me as she wanted to see me.”, demon wetted its lips with a long, forked tongue. “We are friends. Her desires are still small, insignificant things. I ask no repayment for fulfilling those. Companionship of another child in a world of adults, a shared moment of laughter. I thought to wait until she grows up, until her wants become needs too strong to quiet, and then we could have an agreement. Built on lasting friendship and centuries of understanding, of course.”  
The wretched creature dared to smile at him.  
“Sadly, I miscalculated my own appetite. Such a shining thing she has become. An heir for your power or a woman of People reversed, I wonder? Which one did you make in your desire to bring the child back? Those wishes never end well, and I could have told you that. How do you think a fragile creature like her will take the news of my demise?”  
“It will not be a problem.” Elgar’nan promised, kneeling down on one knee and taking her beautiful horn in his strong hands. “By the time I’m finished with you, your mind will be wide open. Pain is a door, and I will enter and break you into pieces only to put you back again. But this time, you will be my creature. A perfect handmaiden, the most loyal companion, which will never bring a moment’s grief to her dearest friend and mistress. Twisting one’s spirit, Desire, goes both ways, and I’m much better at it than you are.”  
A loud snap echoed in the room, and Elgar’nan threw the piece of broken horn over his shoulder.

\--

The cell was a product of twisted sense of humour. Ellana suspected that Elgar’nan and his lot had a scrying pool somewhere so they could watch the helpless squirming of his prisoners. The design was genius, she had to admit. Whatever part of her body touched the floor or walls started to warm up. Within thirty heartbeats, it was hot enough to hurt, and she had to change her position in some way to end the discomfort before she got blisters. It was all right – for another set of thirty heartbeats. It took time for her skin to cool off, so simply standing or sitting in turns would not do. A rotation of six or seven different positions made things tolerable, although Ellana Lavellan felt like an idiot as she tried to kick herself on a handstand, supporting herself against the corner. She was not flexible and liked books more than acrobatics.

Of course, she had just succeeded when a sentinel came to door. Ellana wondered if she had done something to insult Falon’Din, because a God of Fortune should not have allowed this to happen on a day she had chosen to wear a skirt. From now on, she would wear leggings everywhere.  
“Our lord has time for you now.” a man said in clearly amused voice. Ellana couldn’t see his face, because her skirt was hanging over her head and blocking her view. It was probably a good thing because she could feel the shameful blush spreading from the tips of her ears. Damn it.

The muffled cackling of a sentinel leading her out from the dungeon did nothing to improve her mood. He led her up the stairs, and through a window, Ellana saw the morning had dawned already. It had been a late evening when she had arrived to Elgar’nan’s temple to demand Lisel back.  
“My lord invited you to breakfast with little lady and her friend. He expects you to be on your very best behaviour in front of the children.” the man said and opened a door for her.

 

A table was spread to a beautiful atrium. The ceiling was built from glass, and a morning sun shone through it. Elgar’nan was washing his hands on the golden basin, and Ellana saw Siona and Lisel already sitting at the table. Lisel didn’t seem to be hurt, and Ellana felt relieved.  
“Good morning, Ellana.” Elgar’nan said and dried his hands in linen towel, handing it to a servant who had held the basin. A liveried man carried it to side table and hurried to pull a chair for Ellana.  
“Good morning, mother.” Siona said politely.  
“Good morning.”, Ellana replied. She did not want to play the game, but her last meeting with Siona had not gone well, and she did not want to cause a scene which would only lower her daughter’s opinion of her. She could confront Elgar’nan in private. She took a chair servant offered, and sat down.  
“I understand there was a minor misunderstanding about Lisel.” Elgar’nan said as he chose a fluffy cake from the golden tray. “The children had a small argument, and I decided it would be best to solve it as soon as possible. Apologies have been made, and everything is fine now.”  
“Is it true, Lisel?” Ellana asked.  
The little desire demon nodded with obvious pleasure.  
“My lord asked me to stay here with Siona. I promised. I get my own room and I can play with her nice things.”  
“Only if you don’t misplace them. You have to ask before you borrow...” Siona said sharply. She looked pale, like she had been unwell.  
“I’m sure Lisel will learn to be considerate.” Elgar’nan said with a lovely smile. “A girl of your age and position should have a handmaiden. I think that with time, you will be as close as I am with Senris. Unless your mother disagrees?”  
Ellana shook her head.  
“Excellent. There are many changes to come now that you are grown up, and your mother and I will discuss them. You may go now, princess. The sentinels are expecting you in the training yard.”  
Taking his cue, Siona stood up, kissed Elgar’nan’s cheek with warmth which made Ellana jealous and curtsied at Ellana with practiced ease before she left with Lisel. The servant opened a door for them, and returned to table.

“Do you require something else, my lord?” the man asked.  
“No, Isam. See that we are not disturbed.” Elgar’nan said.  
The servant took up the golden bowl and as he walked past Ellana, she saw the water was red, like blood. Staring after the servant, she startled as she noticed Elgar’nan watching her with a faint shadow of a smile. He knew that she had seen.  
“It was good of you to come here today.” he said. “I have a proposition to you. I have a personal issue I must attend outside Arlathan. Siona has been unwell, and I don’t like the idea of leaving her in servants’ care. They are devoted, of course, but still servants. I would prefer if you were willing to stay with her for the duration of my journey. It won’t take longer than two or three weeks, I’m sure.”  
“I didn’t come here for breakfast. You threw me in a cell.”  
“After you tried to break in my home and attacked my guards?” he asked. “You should think better what you do. A Creator must learn to think of consequences of her actions. You are no longer a nobody Keeper who can choose her allegiances freely. What has been given, can be taken away.”  
“Are you threatening me, Elgar’nan?”  
“Not yet. I’m merely warning you to consider carefully. We are in the middle of war, my dearest. While others fought and bled, you were seen literally embracing our enemies. They killed my son and broke my daughter’s mind, and you told how proud you were. Few days later, you attack my sentinels and demand me to give back a harmful spy who conspired to hurt my child. You will either do what I say, and prove yourself trustworthy again, or Siona will tell Mythal everything she saw.” Elgar’nan said, cutting a small piece of fluffy cake and put it into his mouth. “It is your choice. You are free to leave my temple if you wish, but I would advise against trusting Mythal’s justice.”

 


	46. Music box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana Lavellan tries and fails to connect with her daughter.
> 
> This chapter also includes cultural discussion on how to be the elfiest elf ever living, religious marketing by Falon'Din and Forgotten One who thinks that boy band songs work on teenage girls. He might be even right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter:  
> The beginning of this chapter (mirror scene):  
> I'm sorry for today / Game of Thrones season 4 https://youtu.be/AcmzNb3C9VY
> 
> Falon’Din’s religious advertisement. https://youtu.be/r1rmktHvvs0
> 
> Music box song, ie. Rule the World. https://youtu.be/YOoLGXFSQL4  
> I prefer the cover version by Superstar, but couldn't find it from Youtube. Maybe Anaris listens to Take That.
> 
> And for last part of the chapter, where Ellana and Siona Talk about her decision.  
> "Sacrifice" from Terminator Genisys OST by Lorne Balfe. https://youtu.be/XuGFNo4gSgI

“You are going to go and get Senris.” Siona said as she watched Elgar’nan braiding his hair in front of a mirror.  
“Yes.”  
“You know it’s madly dangerous to go there alone.” she stated.  
“And what do you think Senris will do when he sees me like that?” Elgar’nan asked with a smile.  
“He will curse your name, whoop down to save you, and secretly feel all warm and fuzzy inside because you came for him.” Siona predicted, shaking her head. “It would be far simpler if he just believed that you love him.”  
“Oh, child, it would be simpler but so boring.” Elgar’nan replied. “In time, you will learn. Love thrives on obstacles, because each trial reminds us that loving someone is a choice. And nothing makes a man to feel more alive than facing a torrent of deadly enemies with a trusted companion at his back.”  
“And then you have Glad-to-be-Alive sex.” Siona sniffed.  
Elgar’nan looked at her, a surprise on his face.  
“I have brothers now, papae.” she said sweetly. “They actually tell me things I don’t know, and I’m not stupid. Falon’Din explained everything about on how to pick up people from battlefields.”  
“I see.” Elgar’nan considered her words. ”I’m a bit worried to think Falon’Din is your only source of information. He is…”  
“Terribly vain, believes himself more handsome than he actually is and harbours a peculiar interest towards atypical creatures. Like giants.” Siona said dryly.  
“Precisely.”, Elgar’nan replied. “And even though it is sensible to learn the theoretical knowledge early on, you will not test it in practice, no matter what Falon’Din says. No lovers before you are 450, and even then, I would recommend you to follow the practice of Arlathan nobles. Virginal sex can be horribly unsatisfying stumbling, which leads to much frustration and embarrassment. The nobles of old Elvhenan skipped that part by summoning a bound desire spirit to tutor their children and test the waters, so when the young adults were ready to venture outside their own bedroom, they knew what they were doing.”  
“It sounds reasonable.” Siona admitted. “Besides, I don’t think it will be an issue. I’m dead, and I can’t think of anyone who would like to kiss a corpse. Except some mad servant of Falon’Din.”  
“That is a horrible sentiment, and I have had enough of your mistaken beliefs on the topic. Come here.” Elgar’nan said firmly, making room for her on the bench in front of the vanity.  
Siona did as she was told and sat down by his side. Elgar’nan slipped his arm over her shoulders, taking both of her hands in his.  
“Dying is not what defines you, little one.” he said. “Call up the light to your hands.”  
He sensed a familiar torrent of power, still faint and struggling, and helped her to channel it along the pathways of flesh until he felt the humming of sun under her skin.  
“Now, Siona. Look in the mirror, and see you as you truly are.” he whispered and guided their joined hands slowly upwards.  
As the light touched her face, he heard her sharp intake of breath and smiled. But Elgar’nan continued moving their hands in a curving motion, watching the play of emotions on her astonished face as the light shone on her skin. He felt fierce love and pride filling his heart as he watched his daughter’s spirit reflecting on the mirror. She had been worth saving, and nobody would ever be able to make him repent it.  
“The flesh you wear is nothing but the form you have now. You are not tied to its limitations like mortals or lesser ones. What is beneath your skin is what you truly are. And if you still claim that this vision of light is not beautiful—“  
“I don’t, papae.” she said, staring at the mirror. Tears fell on her cheeks, and in the reflection, they were droplets of crystals, reflecting a hundred different hues.  
“I just... I didn’t know, papae. I thought I was _dead_. I couldn’t think I would be this.” she said helplessly. “I knew you were beautiful, but I never thought you would, that we were...”  
“Hush, child.” Elgar’nan said softly, pulling her into his arms and letting the light fade. “Hush.”

 

\--

 

“There is something different in you today.” Falon’Din told her as he started to circle Siona in the training ring. “You aren’t as easy to bait.”  
“I know what I am. You can’t insult me.”, Siona stated.  
“Confidence is a new thing from _you_.” Falon’Din replied as their swords clashed for the first time. “I’m surprised that father’s fat little ward finally grew a spine.”  
“I will make you take back your every insult when you lay on the ground and spit blood. Again.” Siona replied as she attacked back. But her words were easy banter, not a threat born of hurt.

Ellana watched from distance as Falon’Din sparred with Siona.  
“That was a nice parry.” Elgar’nan remarked. “But it will take a while until this gets interesting. After Siona strikes first thrust at his face, Falon’Din usually loses his temper, and starts to fling death spells.”  
“You are letting God of Death to cast death spells on my daughter?” Ellana asked.  
“I thought your Dalish valued practical skills.” Elgar’nan remarked. “Think of it this way. If Siona needs to defend herself from an enemy which is good enough to get past my sentinels, chances are that her enemy is a mage who is much more skilled than she is. Fighting Falon’Din and trying to dispel his death spells simultaneously with fencing is as near as true situation as I can make it without arranging assassin attacks, and doing that would be bad for her mental health at this point. This practice benefits them both. Falon’Din does not like her, so he doesn’t pull his punches, and Siona is one of few who actually dare to pummel him. My son’s fighting skills with other weapons than magic are rusty, and you of all people know that relying solely on magic is unwise.”  
“I don’t think that sword fighting would have convinced Chantry not to make me Tranquil.” Ellana remarked bitterly.  
“It might have enabled you to cut your way out before they got you.” Elgar’nan replied. “If you are smart, you should arrange training before we march to war. Forgotten Ones are not simple spirits distraught by rifts.”  
“I wouldn’t call Senris a simple spirit.” Ellana remarked, keeping her eyes on fighters.  
Elgar’nan was quiet, but when he finally continued, his voice was cool.  
“Since you have not left, I assume you have agreed to watch over Siona. She is not to leave the temple, and neither are you, for as long as you are responsible of her. Her spirit was damaged by catastrophe at Minrathous, and my priests are treating her with magic. Her guards know the signs to look for, and if they tell you to drop a topic, I expect you to do it.”  
“You treat mental trauma with magic?” Ellana interrupted.  
“Naturally.”  
“I have never heard of such thing.”  
“What did your clan do, then, if someone’s spirit was wounded?”  
“We tried to talk about it. If they agreed to. Sometimes it helped.”  
Elgar’nan let out a frustrated huff.  
“Barbaric. Sometimes I wonder how the People managed to find any will to live in such a defective world as this one.”

 

\--

 

Elgar’nan left after lunch, and Ellana did not know what she was expected to do. Siona had not spoken to her except the phrases required by basic politeness, and Ellana had to admit she didn’t have faintest idea on how Siona spent her time. It was humiliating to ask from one of the servants where to find her daughter.

She was led to large room without any furniture expect a giant ball of crystal hanging from a ceiling. A sentinel in black armor was standing near the wall, while Falon’Din was on the middle of the room with Siona, holding her hand. He was wearing a white, open shirt which left his chest bare with long trousers. Siona had a black top with short, asymmetrical skirt. To Ellana’s surprise, there were several of Falon’Din’s priests in attendance, holding different instruments. Some of them she recognized; others she did not.  
“We have an audience.” Falon’Din remarked as Ellana entered. “A bit premature, I think, but maybe she can encourage you to actually try.”  
“I am trying.” Siona defended herself. “You could blackmail mother to dance with you.”  
“I’ve spent so much effort on teaching you that I’m not going to start from beginning with someone else. Besides, you are not entirely hopeless, and she is too short to make me look good. You just need to focus on being dead in the beginning and end.”  
“But it’s hard not to laugh, because your song is the vainest I’ve ever heard.” Siona said, switching to sing-song voice. “Oh, that grace, oh that body, oh that face.”  
“It is a religious dance meant to inspire the mortal masses so they will worship me. It doesn’t matter if _you_ like it or not. Stop complaining, and just try not to embarrass me. I will teach you a few choice moves from 3000s after you make a passable effort in this.” Falon’Din said.  
“All right.” Siona sighed and laid on the floor, taking the beginning pose. The lights dimmed, and the room was filled with mist.

The dance practice continued late into afternoon, and Ellana was starting to find Falon’Din’s picking over miniscule details annoying, although the critique was not directed at her.  
“It hardly matters how Siona holds her neck or moves her head, the ridiculous line about your lovely face and electric soul makes the meaning clear enough.” she finally snapped. “And the whole part with her sinking down on your chest is unnecessary.”  
Siona stared at her, and her eyes were wide.  
“But I thought it was the only part which was going well. The one where Falon’Din leads a dead spirit along the winding paths of Beyond.”  
“You are correct in that.” Falon’Din said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you have other insights to offer, _Keeper_?”  
“Ritualistic dancing does not require one to kick so high that whole crowd can see her underpants.” Ellana said. “You would do better to concentrate your energy on war instead of spending a whole day on something as artificial as this.”  
Falon’Din’s eyes flashed.  
“I invented dancing as an art form, you ignorant fool. Have the People fallen so far that they no longer even recognize beauty when they see it?”  
“Maybe we just cut away all the needless posturing from the ritual dances.” Ellana said innocently. “That must be why they are so much shorter these days, and only a few are meant for you. Maybe they would invent more, if you actually did something to stop the Forgotten Ones instead of--”  
“Shut up!” Falon’Din took a hold of Ellana’s arm and turned to Siona, who had slipped behind his back, putting Falon’Din between Ellana and herself. “Sister. I will come to take you to my temple tomorrow, where the ignorance of audience does not ruin the mood.”  
He pulled Ellana into corridor and slammed the door closed behind them.

Falon’Din let go of her as soon as they were alone, and wiped his fingers with a black handkerchief.  
“What is your problem, Lavellan?” he asked, glaring at her. “I wasn’t entirely convinced that mother’s low opinion of you was warranted, but more I see of you, more I find myself agreeing with her. No wonder why father does not let you keep in touch with little one. You purposefully try to provoke her with your talk of war!”  
“The problem is not mentioning the war in two sentences, it’s you ignoring it completely. Did you even see what happened to Minrathous? A whole city was drowned. It was full of people!”  
“It was full of humans and slaves, not People.” Falon’Din rebutted. “Have you forgotten the difference between the two? Or maybe you have never understood it. It must be the latter. For one vying for a formal recognition and place within pantheon, you are doing worse job than Ghilly ever did, and her bad taste in gifts was a joke of a century.”  
“Whether I sit in the Chamber of Ruling officially or unofficially is not the issue here.” Ellana said firmly, fighting the urge to stomp her foot. “You are a Creator. You should be concentrating on your duty, not playing a dance instructor!”  
”The war will progress on its own. Why would we hurry? Let the shemlen spend their blood and lives in attempt to stop the Blight they have helped to unleash. If we wait for four hundred, six hundred, twelve hundred years it hardly makes a difference. Longer we wait, more shemlen will die, and it will all benefit the People in a long run. You quicklings still seem to have difficulty understanding that a war is not a single battle following each other within weeks or months. First war I fought in lasted for two and half eons and consisted of two battles.”  
“Even if you are not helping the humans, you could do something to People here.”  
“You truly are Fen’Harel’s paramour and Herald, a mindless bully trampling the garden you haven’t even seen.” Falon’Din shook his head in disgust. “You may have been given Sylaise’s divinity, but your thoughts still belong to a quickling. You just watched me helping the People for four hours, and still you understand nothing.”  
“Dancing is not helping the People. There are wounded, those still weak in magic, a hundred children needing shelter.”  
“Whom we put in Fen’Harel’s temple while you two wandered around Thedas, so don’t try to preach about a duty you tried to dodge yourself.”, Falon’Din dismissed her argument with a gesture. “What good it will do to win one war if we lose the culture which raised us above other races? The People thrived on perfection. We could afford spend our time becoming better than others in every possible way, and it was the path which made us great. You see me wasting my time. I see myself teaching what it means to be _elvhen_.”  
“Hasn’t anyone told you that being elvhen is not about dancing prettily?” Ellana asked sharply. “I thought you wouldn’t fall for shemlen cliché.”  
“Of course it’s not solely about dancing, even though culture is important. It’s about being able to focus on something with exclusion of everything else, and seeing the little nuances you will never grasp with your mortal-born eyes and limited mind. A spirit moulded in right way yearns for perfection like a flower reaches towards sun. My sister has been raised to want these things, and that is why she does not complain and whine like you do, but accepts guidance from an elder. In your case, it must be agonizing to see a child attempting to reach heights you never can even dream of. You are not elvhen, and you will never be. You are Dalish. A shadow in woods. “, Falon’Din’s beautiful face twisted in a disgusted sneer.  
He turned and strode away, leaving furious Ellana trying to find a cutting remark before he vanished around corner. She didn’t invent a good one until much later.

 

\--

 

Falon’Din’s words were like a saw tooth arrowhead, which only caused more damage as she tried to pull it out. Ellana Lavellan found herself watching the elves living in Elgar’nan’s temple, and the experience opened her eyes in a way she did not like.  
She had always believed that elves had to be united to survive. In Brecilian forest, it had felt like that was happening. But with each passing day, she was starting to see that either Mythal’s sentinels were far worldlier than Elgar’nan’s, or they had adjusted their behaviour to fit better with hers when Ellana had been Mythal’s vessel. It could be both, she comforted herself. Abelas had played the part of High Keeper for Dalish; Mythal herself had lived among the shemlen. But that was not the case in Elgar’nan’s temple.  
It wasn’t any single thing, more like a hundred small details. Ellana had never seen her daughter to open a door. She merely adjusted her walking speed so that a servant could hurry to open it for her. Nobody touched her except Falon’Din. Lisel did, if she was performing some service like doing her hair, or sentinels if they needed to adjust her grip on a weapon. But there was no warmth, or closeness like she remembered from Clan Lavellan. The relationship was always that of a master and servant. The gulf between Siona and everyone else was wide as the Amaranthine Ocean, and it saddened Ellana.  
She finally made a breakthrough one night, when they were eating late dinner in the atrium. The stars shone through the glass ceiling, and someone had done something to the wall facing the garden. The wall was no longer there, and Ellana was watching it suspiciously. She wasn’t sure if the wall was merely invisible, meaning she could hit it if she tried to enter the garden, or was it gone.  
“You could go to garden if you wish.” Siona answered her unspoken question. “The wall is still in place, but the enchantment lets you pass through.”  
“There were no invisible walls in my childhood.” Ellana replied, trying to think what to say.  
“I have understood that the world was vastly different place then.” Siona said. Unlike on their earlier meetings before Elgar’nan’s threat, she was unfailingly polite, and it bugged Ellana. Nobody liked screaming, hysterical children, but at least they were alive and had opinions. This felt like being in Winter Palace for first time, and Ellana didn’t like it.  
“What do you know about the Dalish?” Ellana asked.  
“Not much, I’m afraid. When I came into my magic, Zathrian taught me the basics of controlling it, but we never spoke about other topics. After father’s accident, the lessons were interrupted since I was no longer in Arlathan. The sentinels took over, and now father tutors me personally.” Siona said, unthinkingly moving her fingers to signal a servant who poured more water in her goblet.  
“I thought Fen’Harel was supposed to teach you.”  
“Maybe later.” Siona said. “It would not work out now.”  
“Why?” Ellana crossed her fingers under her chin, ignoring the long look she got from a servant as she put her elbows on the table.  
“I am under house arrest, mother. It includes traipsing around in the Fade.” Siona replied, cutting a piece of meat and putting it into her mouth.  
“I find the whole house arrest-idea odd.” Ellana said. “If you are restricted inside four walls, how can you go to Falon’Din’s temple? Or why you got such a punishment in first place?”  
Siona arched her eyebrows, smiling in amused manner.  
“I ran away from home. Papae hates it when I do that. I always get into terrible trouble, and then he has to come and save me.”  
There it was, a true smile flicking in her eyes, and Ellana found herself answering it.  
“Papae says that someday his hair might turn grey from worry, and he will never forgive me if it happens.”  
“Where did you go?” Ellana asked.  
The change was obvious. The gleeful spark disappeared, replaced by a mask of studied indifference. A childish phrase ‘papae’ changed into more formal ‘father’.  
“It is a private matter between me and father.” Siona said, and Ellana could not get more out of her that night.

\--

 

On ninth day, Siona didn’t come to breakfast, and the sentinel who shadowed her every step didn’t appear either. At first, Ellana thought she had gone to Falon’Din’s temple, but Siona had never failed to inform if she went there.  
“Creator.”, a brown-haired woman in sentinel armor approached her. The honorific was new. “We request your assistance. Please follow.”

“My name is Venial.” the sentinel said as she led Ellana through the labyrinth of corridors. “Our little lady has had a bad night. I have understood that your people have effective herbal remedies for headache, and you have made extensive study of preparing such potions.”  
“How do you know?” Ellana asked.  
“It is our job to know everything about my lord’s allies and enemies.” Venial replied.  
Spy network, then. It made sense for a Creator to have one, but Ellana still didn’t like it. Banishing the thought, she asked:  
“What they have given for her?”  
“Amrita vein. One small cup. It does not work.”  
This, at least, she knew how to do.  
“Take me to your storage room. I need a funnel, morsel, and a cup of sweetest wine you can find from Elgar’nan’s cellars.”

Ellana heard weeping from the other side of the door. It was pitiful wail of one who tried very hard not to cry, but couldn’t stop either. The sentinels guarding the door watched her carefully, but Venial pushed past them, opening the door.  
The room was pitch black dark, and Ellana stopped, holding her remedy. It would not do to stumble over something and drop the cup. Venial had no such trouble. The layout of room was clearly familiar for her, because she was moving, and Ellana heard the sentinel sitting down on bed.  
“Little one.” Venial said with motherly warmth. “Try to sit up. I’ve brought you something to help with the pain.”  
“It hurts so badly.” Siona’s answer was barely a whisper. “And it’s worse if I move.”  
“I know, da’len, I know.” Venial replied. “I have to ignite the veil fire for a moment, but I will help you up first. Here, put the sunglasses on.”

They sat in dark until Siona’s breathing became calm and slow. She turned in her sleep, and Venial smoothed her hair with fondness.  
“Has it always been like this?” Ellana asked. “I have heard of debilitating headaches, but my Keeper said they usually run in families, and my father has never mentioned such thing. Neither Fen’Harel.”  
“No.”, Venial said, watching the sleeping child. “At the end of our journey, there was an ambush by the Huntress. Our little one got very badly injured.”  
“Andruil did it?”  
“The attacker wore an armor made of Void. I remember it very well.” Venial said harshly. “Senris has been hunting for her ever since, for Vir Banal’ras.”  
Ellana did not answer, because she did not know what to believe.

\--

The life in Elgar’nan’s temple went on as usual. It was deceptively easy to let the routine lull her into false sense of security. Ellana knew nothing of what was happening in the world outside, and inside the walls nothing changed. The maternal warmth Venial had shown towards Siona was no longer present in their interactions, and Ellana was wondering if it was because of her. She was an outsider, an unwilling guest or a prisoner in this place.

One morning between the fighting training and dance practice, Ellana was sitting in the solar with Siona when a servant came carrying a tray. There was a finely carved box made of black stone on it.  
“A packet addressed to you was left at the temple gates, my lady.” the servant said and placed the offering on a table before retreating.  
Siona looked surprised, but made no move to look closer.  
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Ellana remarked.  
“I can’t open my own presents.” Siona said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
“Why not?” Ellana asked.  
“I’m not old enough. Papae opens them and decides whether he accepts the gift or not on my behalf, and if he does, then I can have It.”, she explained. “He sends almost everything back.”  
“That sounds just depressing.”, Ellana sniffed. “If you were Dalish, you could decide yourself whether you wanted something or not.”  
Siona looked astonished.  
“Really?”  
“Naturally.” Ellana replied. “You are fourteen next month. Adulthood is based on maturity, not age among the Dalish. To be considered adult, you would have to spend a night in contemplation and then utter no sound while Keeper gave you your vallaslin. It hurts, of course, but if you can bear the headache, I don’t think you would have any trouble getting through that.”  
“That’s it?”, Siona’s expression was shocked. “Nothing more?”  
“That’s it.”, Ellana replied. “And if you wanted to bond and have a family, you would need to hunt down an animal and present a pelt to your beloved to demonstrate you can provide for him. The Dalish are free people. The Keeper is a leader of a clan because she is wise and trusted, not because she would have authority over others.”  
“It’s a... strange thought.” Siona said, looking uncertain.  
“I have always thought that enforcing the age limits from first Elvhenan in this Age is superficial. Yes, they might have been justifiable when they were first invented, but the world we live in is no longer the same. Sheltering someone is well and good, but it can also keep them from realizing their own talents and potential.” Ellana was getting warmed to her topic. “Look at me, for example. In my first three decades, I have become the Keeper of my own clan, ran an organisation which controlled most of the southern continent, closed the Breach and fought a magister, given birth to two children and saved my People by leading them to Arlathan. If the ancient elves had their way, I would be still learning alphabet in Mythal’s temple, and none of those things I listed would ever had happened.”  
Ellana looked at Siona and added:  
“I do not believe there is some fundamental difference between you and I just because you were not born under the Veil, but in a pocket world between Thedas and Fade. Immortality and the growth spurts are differences, and I admit that, but they hardly explain everything. Have you considered that maybe the age limit of 450 is not there because you weren’t ready much earlier, but because it served a function in society where nobody died and it was useful to have children as a children for much longer time instead of letting them to compete for power and prestige? One’s position is not endangered by someone who can’t even open her own mail.”  
Her daughter’s polite mask of indifference had vanished completely and she just stared at Ellana. Her expression reminded Ellana of Fen’Harel when he was surprised by something unpleasant, and Ellana chuckled. Elgar’nan might have stolen her true face, yes, but the way her eyes widened and jaw dropped was pure Solas.  
“Shall we open the box, then?” Ellana asked and stood up.  
Siona regained her composure and after a short silence, she said diplomatically:  
“I can’t open it, but nothing is stopping you.”  
“A trickster child.” Ellana said fondly and reached to ruffle her daughter’s hair without thinking. Siona allowed her do it, and did not pull away. Ellana Lavellan felt love blooming in her heart, and she didn’t bother to hide her smile from ever-watchful sentinel as she turned towards the box.

 

Falon’Din was running late, as usual. But it was not a problem, because he was a Creator, and others waited for him for as long as he needed. The delay was his sister’s fault. He had pushed the wretched child into mud puddle during morning practice, and she had rudely caught his leg so he fell over her. The indignity of it rankled him, even though she had gotten the worst of dirt. Falon’Din had to send one of his servants to bring clean set of clothes from his temple, and making himself presentable was not a quick task.  
He would pay back by extending today’s practice for two hours. Since she was getting hang of the choreography, he—  
“What in the Void is that?” he shouted.

 

Ellana Lavellan was humming along the sweet melody. She had never seen such a pretty music box. The design had to be dwarven, because it was ingenious.  
“Come closer to look.” she said to her daughter. “It’s lovely.”  
A finely carved figure of a woman stood alone in a field of grass. The box cover was black stone, filled with little diamonds which shone like stars. When Ellana turned a key, a song began to play.  
_“You light the skies up above me / a star so bright you blind me / Don’t close your eyes /Don't fade away, don't fade away.”  
_ They watched, enspelled, as the grass parted and a man rose from the ground made of serpent stone. Ellana could see the little gears inside the box, but they made no sound, moving seamlessly. The man wore black robes embroider with silver, and Ellana marvelled the amount of details on his garb. She could have sworn that even the tiny braid of black hair falling down on figure’s back was real.  
The man in black robes bowed to woman, with a hand placed over his heart. The little diamonds became alive, shining like stars on the cover of the box.  
_“You and me we can ride on a star / If you stay with me, girl, we can rule the world.”_  
The man offered his hand to the woman, and Ellana shook her head as she saw the figure’s tiny lips were mouthing the words of the song. Siona was staring at the box with faint blush on her cheeks.  
“You should consider his offer.” Ellana chuckled. “This is far better proof of skill than any pelt.”  
_“You and me we can light up the sky / If you stay by my side, we can rule the world”_  
Siona reached closer to brush her fingers against the fine carvings of the box, when a shout interrupted them.  
“What in the Void is that?”

 

Falon’Din pushed them aside, and took one look at the box. He let out a string of curses and took a hold on little figure of man, yanking it free. The fragile wires and gears which had moved the figurines broke, and the song ended abruptly.  
“What were you thinking?” he yelled at Siona, rage colouring his features.  
“I didn’t touch it, I swear I didn’t.”, Siona took a step backwards, retreating as he advanced.  
“That was incredibly rude even from you! Calm down and—“, Ellana’s words were cut short as a wall of force appeared between them, separating her from Falon’Din and Siona. Falon’Din ignored her even though she began to dispel his spell immediately. All his attention was on Siona.  
“You idiot!” Falon’Din pulled his arm back and slapped his sister on her face. “You should never have even looked at the thing! You have no right to--”  
He lapsed into so archaic elvish Ellana couldn’t make out but a few words. Something about granting approval, wish and love. Dirthamen's name was repeated twice. Siona seemed to understand it, because she looked aghast.  
Angry red mark was flaming on her cheek, and she fell on her knees in front of Falon’Din, bending her neck so low that hair fell to cover her face.  
“I beg your help and forgiveness, brother.”, she whispered. “For committing a slight against our house.”  
Falon’Din gritted his teeth together, and his voice was low and deadly as he spoke:  
“I won’t allow you to fall into same trap which took our brother, sister. I will see you dead first before letting you drink from their poisoned cup.”  
“Ir abelas, brother.” Siona hiccupped, trying to swallow hear tears. “I beg your guidance. I didn’t understand.”  
“Come. We will salvage what can be salvaged at this point.” Falon’Din said, pulling her roughly on her feet. He broke the little figure of man into two and dropped it on the table where other parts of broken music box laid. Falon’Din gathered the edges of tablecloth into makeshift sack and took it in one hand, using other to pull Siona behind him in tight grip.

 

Lisel told Ellana later that she had seen Falon’Din dragging Siona and the box up to highest point of Elgar’nan’s temple, the Tower of the Sun, as the priests gathered everyone in the temple to watch in the yard below.  
“She dropped the box on the ground and passed her hands through the living flame afterwards.” Lisel said, sitting on Ellana’s table and swinging her feet back and forth. “Falon’Din made an announcement and then burned his hands, too, for purification.”  
“Why?” Ellana asked, seething with anger. “Why they would do something so stupid? What was wrong with the box? It wasn’t poisoned, or enchanted, or dangerous in any way.”  
“The sentinels are mad at you. They dealt with servant, first, and now they are disciplining Leolin, because she should have known better, even though she is youngest. “, Lisel replied.  
“They should be disciplining Falon’Din, for hitting a young girl.”  
“They will not. I asked from Amanya. She says that there were boxes like those made in ancient times when houses fought against one another. A scion of a noble house could make such gift to a member on opposite side, offering himself and peace. If she accepted, war would end, and they became hostages for peace. The side starting a war would have lost honor, and the life of the one they had given away.” Lisel said. “Andruil and June’s bond was the outcome of this practice among pantheon, and there were countless others in noble houses. Their union kept Elvhenan safe for four thousand years.”

\--

Ellana found Siona and Falon’Din from the ballroom, as she had expected. They were going through the motions of that cursed, useless dance like nothing had happened. The abstract beauty of it made her frustration and anger burn only brighter. This was the Elvhenan she had fought for all her life. A world where two elvhen dancing in a gilded room thought their right to plunge entire world into war just because _they_ decided so. Never giving any thought to all who would suffer and die for that choice. Never asking opinion from others. They didn’t have to. Such power was their _birth right_. A birth right Ellana herself had arranged for her daughter. Her greatest mistake.

“Siona.”, Ellana’s voice cut through the music just as Falon’Din was dipping her.  
“Did you know what the box symbolized as you threw it on the ground?” Ellana asked, her voice steady although her heart was beating so loud she could hear it inside her head.  
Siona straightened herself, and Falon’Din rested his hands lightly on her arms, standing behind her.  
She looked Ellana in the eye and replied:  
“Yes.”  
“You knowingly chose a war against Forgotten Ones, when you could have chosen peace?” Ellana asked again, each word falling from her lips heavier than last.  
“Yes, mother.” Siona replied. She did not flinch, or waver.  
“Do you feel even slightest bit of shame? Of regret?” Ellana could no longer keep her feelings from showing on her face. She had not wanted to believe this. She had hoped that Falon’Din had led Siona astray, not telling her the truth, pushing her into decision.  
“Mother, there will never be an alliance between them and us.” Siona said. “Andruil poisoned papae. She held Dirthamen in place while Geldauran maimed him, and he cried. They were going to bind his spirit and taint it, and he begged me to kill him. I will never forgive them for what they did to my brother.”  
Falon’Din did not speak. He stood behind Siona like a shadow, watching.  
“And just for that, you are willing to let thousands die and suffer, when you could stop it with a simple act?” Ellana’s voice was barely a whisper. “All those who will die are important to someone else. Because you would not do your duty, countless people will lose their brother, or father, sisters or mothers. Do you understand that their blood will be in your hands, Siona?”  
“I saw Minrathous, mother. I have fought to save father. I know what war looks like, and _I know what I chose_.” Siona’s voice was rising. “I can’t live my life in fear. I have to fight to protect those I love. Otherwise it will never end. Alliances don’t last. They never have. If a bond could fix this, why are we at war again, although Andruil took what June offered? Only way to end this is kill them all, so they will never hurt any of us again.”  
“You can’t know that. It isn’t your right to choose for everyone.” Ellana shook her head, tears obscuring her vision.  
“I am a person, not an offering to be laid on Anaris’ shrine.” Siona was agitated. “You are my mother! How can you demand something like this from me?”  
“Because it is what she would have done in your place.” Falon’Din told her. “And never looked back.”  
“Siona, I’m asking you for one last time. Will you reconsider this? I’m sure he would be willing to wait few years more, until you are older. Apologies can be made. We could still save the People and those living on Thedas if you only were sensible about this. You can’t put your personal happiness and feelings ahead everyone else’s. I know it is hard, but this is your _duty_.” Ellana begged. “Do you think I wanted to give you away and ride to destroy Magrallen? I did not! Walking away from you and leading the Dalish to certain death was hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I knew that if I didn’t do it, Arlathan would not rise and the People would be lost. My life was a small price compared to that.”  
Siona was pale and silent.  
“I bought this for you.” Ellana gestured around the splendid room. “When they cut off my hand, and when they took away my magic, I thought that at least you were safe. That my sacrifice had a _meaning_ , and my hurts did not matter, because you grew up in safety with people who loved you.”  
“I will always be grateful because you gave me to papae, and it is true that your courage saved us all.” Siona said with utmost clarity. “But I’m sorry, mother. I can’t be the daughter you want. I’m not you. Someone has to choose for all of us, and I have already chosen. I can’t forgive what they did to papae and Dirthamen, and I _will not_. It is my right."  
Ellana shook her head, not knowing if she was on edge of laughter or tears. She had given her daughter to Elgar’nan, because she knew Eldest of the Sun was selfish and would not sacrifice those he loved for greater good. Not like Fen’Harel, or Ellana herself. And now that very trait was going to doom them all. Like father, like daughter.  
She looked at Siona, and Falon’Din who still stood behind her. They made such a perfect picture. Light and dark, same yet different in their unchallenged arrogance and power. This was the Elvhenan she had bought with her blood, sweat and tears, and Ellana Lavellan found that she did not like it.  
“I am sorry too.” she said, numb sorrow spreading every part of her body. “Because you are right. You clearly are not the daughter I wanted.”  
Ellana saw a glimpse of Siona’s expression before she turned away. It was like seeing a mortal wound, which had not quite taken a hold yet. The moment between a wound struck and pain blooming. But Ellana turned away, and left Elgar’nan’s temple, because she no longer had a daughter.

 

 


	47. Replacement sibling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falon'Din attempts to comfort Siona in his own way.  
> Abelas faces unexpected situation.  
> Elgar'nan and Senris plot.

God of Death listened the sound of Ellana Lavellan’s steps growing fainter until they disappeared entirely. Only then Falon’Din turned to look at his sister.  
“It doesn’t matter.” Siona said. “I hardly knew her at all.”  
Falon’Din was not the god who saw truths of elvhen heart, but he recognized a bad lie when he heard one. After the discussion he had just witnessed, her words wouldn’t convince even Sylaise, who had been as dumb as a stick in a mud. Nonetheless, he appreciated the effort.  
“Of course.” Falon’Din lied smoothly. “But I think we should go to my temple. I’m tired of people interrupting our dancing practice. You will never learn this before your birthday if we can’t have some peace and quiet.”  
She tried to smile, but her lips were trembling.  
“You think I could learn the rest of it in a month?”  
“If you focus, it may be possible.” Falon’Din allowed. “I won’t let you embarrass me in front of father if you aren’t ready.”  
“You would dance with me in my birthday party?”  
“Like I said, if you are ready.” Falon’Din replied and headed out, nodding to sentinel father had put to babysitting duty. Siona took his hand, and held it the whole time until they arrived to Falon’Din’s temple.

 

After three hours of practice – because he had meant the bit about not letting father laugh at their efforts – Falon’Din decided enough was enough, and opened a bottle of wine he had saved from Minrathous before the city drowned. He poured a glass for himself, and another for Siona.  
She accepted the glass, but wrinkled her nose at the smell.  
“Is it mead? I once drunk a whole bottle of shemlen mead, and it made me sick. Papae put a vomiting spell on me. It was horrible.”  
“And here I thought I was going to introduce you to drinking.” Falon’Din sighed, lounging on his favourite couch. “No, this is not mead. It’s shemlen wine.”  
“Should you be offering me wine? They don’t let me drink wine at home. Not even watered.”  
“You just turned down your first proposal. Isn’t it an occasion worth of celebrating?” Falon’Din asked and raised his glass. “I certainly think so. You wouldn’t like living in Deep Roads, or wherever Forgotten Ones live these days. I wonder if they still reside in the Void?”  
“I didn’t like the Void, and I never want to go back to Deep Roads again.” Siona said, taking a careful sip from her glass. She grimaced at taste.  
“As you see, turning him down calls for celebration.” Falon’Din said. “And we haven’t even gotten to Anaris himself. He might look like an elf when he wants, but deep down, he is something far worse than furriest durgen’len you can imagine.”  
“Really?” Siona’s eyes were wide like plates.  
“Oh, yes. I have sent a servant to fetch June, Fear and Deceit, and few others. Two people aren’t a proper party, and some of June’s acolytes are fun. We’ll get him drunk enough, and he might show you Forgotten Ones’ special trick.” Falon’Din cackled. “It is said that Fen’Harel found it out in a hard way, and you are lucky you can pick something smaller to begin with.”

 

Falon’Din’s servants kept topping June’s glass faithfully, and it took only two and half hours before Falon’Din managed to persuade God of Craft to show his party trick to Siona.  
Siona stared at huge rock wraith who was three or four times taller than her, and then she looked slowly downwards. Her gaze stopped at one point, and she grew a bit pale.  
“Oh.”, she said helplessly.  
“What did I say, sister.” Falon’Din said, guiding her hand in the crook of his arm. “You were lucky to turn down Anaris. Not for beginners.”  
Raising his voice, he yelled:  
“Thank you, June. I will reward you properly later.”  
June gave him thumbs up and started to shrink.  
“Can I have a second glass, Falon’Din?” Siona asked weakly. “I think I need it.”  
“Naturally.” Falon’Din said and snapped his fingers to a servant making rounds with a tray.  


After a few sips from her second glass, Siona started to feel melancholic.  
“Do you think I did the right thing, Falon’Din?” she asked.  
“Oh, by the Black City. Of course you would have to be the type to become weepy when you are drunk.” Falon’Din exclaimed. He had thrown his legs over the back of the couch, hanging upside down while a giggling woman Siona did not know was trying to pour wine into his mouth.  
“I’m not weepy.” Siona was insulted. “I haven’t cried at all.”  
“That’s true.” Falon’Din tried to nod, but the wine spilled on his jaw. He gave an annoyed glance to giggly woman, who giggled only harder. “You. Go away and bother someone else until you learn to pour properly. And if you fall on the stairs and die, I will not take you anywhere.”  
The woman stopped laughing, and burst into tears. She left the bottle on the floor and ran away, crying.  
“Have a try. Maybe you can pour better than she did.” Falon’Din commanded Siona.  
“Why can’t you drink from a glass like normal people do?” Siona asked grumpily. She turned on her stomach and secured her legs around an ugly skull decorating the back rest of Falon’Din’s couch. Reaching for bottle, she straightened her arm and poured a bit of wine into Falon’Din’s mouth.  
“You have a good aim.” Falon’Din said, pleased.  
“Senris says it’s essential to face your target.” Siona said.  
“The old bugger might be right. But as for your second question about the glass, haven’t you noticed that our family isn’t exactly normal? I and father are only ones who haven’t died at least once, and I’m not entirely sure that father can die. And I’m the expert.” Falon’Din remarked.  
Siona considered it. She thought it was highly unlikely. If one breath of sun’s essence could resurrect her and make her into shining thing papae had shown her, and papae had so much more, she did not think Elgar’nan _could_ die.  
“You are making me feel better.” she told Falon’Din, and gave him more wine.  
“I don’t know what I did, but you are welcome.” Falon’Din replied. “Besides, do you think you’d feel any happier now if you had agreed to bond with blighted rock wraith at the mature age of thirteen like your Dalish mother wanted? Dirthamen would still be dead, and they could have tried to poison father again on celebratory dinner. In worst case scenario, all you would get from your noble sacrifice would be a huge tear running all way to your ass and Anaris for a husband, living unhappily with darkspawn ever after.”  
Siona shuddered.  
“I wouldn’t have liked it.”, she said.  
“Father wouldn’t have let you go through with it anyway, and Mythal doesn’t negotiate with Blighters. Elgar’nan would have killed Anaris on spot, no matter what agreements were in place or what it meant for his honor. We’re above such things as bloody honor.” Falon’Din said, opening his mouth like a baby bird for more wine. “And if Lavellan thought the bond was such a great idea, why doesn’t she go through it herself?”  
“But she—“  
“She isn’t bonded to anyone, she’s a Creator, and three decades older than you.” Falon’Din pointed out shrewdly. “Of course, it’s far easier to blackmail a kid than do the deed yourself.”  
“I don’t think I like her.”, Siona said slowly. “And I’m no longer feeling sorry.”  
“Good thinking, sister.” Falon’Din congratulated. “You truly are growing up in leaps and bounds.”

\--

 

“I understand your arguments, Enasal.” Mythal said. She looked a bit greenish on the face. “I agree.”  
Abelas looked at the stack of papers he was holding. He had barely gotten through the first page, and there was one hundred and sixty-four to go.  
“Are you certain, All-Mother?” he asked, stupefied. This was not going like he had expected.  
“I’m not going to recruit Kallian into ranks of lyrium warriors, but you can’t coddle her up like a hen. She joined my sentinels for her own free will, and I will not deny her a chance to fight simply because she has babies. You have them too.” Mythal said, swallowing hard. “I—“  
Kallian pulled a bucket behind the long curtains hanging from the wall, putting it in Mythal’s hands just in time before Mythal vomited loudly.  
“My lady!” Abelas startled, throwing his papers on the floor and running to her. “Are you all right? Kallian! Have you let darkspawn to poison Mythal? I told you should defend her, not to go for the throat!”  
“I appreciate the sentiment to save me, Enasal, but it is not required. I’m not a princess in a castle.” Kallian said in annoyed manner. “You are my husband, not my keeper. And if you start suspecting my competence in doing my job, I will whack you on head in Mythal’s name.”  
She pulled a satsuma from her pocket and peeled it, offering a segment to goddess who accepted it. One of temple servants took the dirty bucket away and deposited a clean one behind the curtain.  
“I hate him.” Mythal wailed, looking pale and miserable. “Why I ever agreed to this?”  
“Because he was beautiful and clever, and a sweet talker.” Kallian said, offering Mythal another segment. “They _all_ are at that point.”  
“Truer words never spoken. I knew there was a reason why I liked you.” Mythal said to Kallian. She leaned back against back of her throne, breathing heavily.  
“As you can see, I can’t do without Kallian.” Mythal addressed Abelas. “Melana tried to offer me _cheese_.”  
“She won’t do that again.” Kallian remarked, feeding the citrus fruit to Mythal, segment by segment. “Pork was another terrible mistake.”  
“Don’t talk about that. I remember the smell vividly.” Mythal ordered, and the greenish tint returned on her skin. “I swear, I will kill Elgar’nan when I see him next.”  
Truth was dawning to Abelas. He remembered this. Happening in his house.  
“You swore you wouldn’t have any more children.” he said to Mythal. “Are you sure it is wise? So soon after losing Dirthamen? There is a war coming to our doorstep.”  
“Enasal, you idiot. When you have ever seen me betray an oath? This _is_ Dirthamen. Siona had secured his spirit, and stupid Elgar’nan managed to persuade me that arranging his rebirth in traditional way was a good idea. I was upset and crying because Dirthamen died, and then Elgar’nan promised to get my baby back if I only did this fertility rite and let him into my bed. It was a dirty trick with evil timing.” Mythal told fiercely.  
“We all agree on that.” Kallian added dryly.  
“He promised that I wouldn’t be as nearly as sick with only one baby, and it would be fine. It _isn’t_.”, Mythal said bitterly. “He’s a cursed liar, and I hate him.”  
Kallian offered her another segment of satsuma, and Mythal shook her head.  
“You can’t exist on half a satsuma.” Kallian said accusingly.  
“I can’t eat more.” Mythal sniffed. “I feel terrible, and it’s his fault.”  
“I know, my lady. You have told us repeatedly.” Kallian replied. “Enasal, you see how this is. I can’t come home right now.”  
Abelas sighed.  
“Why isn’t Elgar’nan here, then? He should be the one feeding her satsumas.”  
“That’s the whole problem!” Mythal’s eyes flashed. “The fucking idiot has gone to hunt Forgotten Ones alone and left me here to vomit! Although he promised it wouldn’t happen again. I feel terrible and I’m all alone, and this will go on for _decades_.”  
Mythal started to cry, and Kallian hugged her, patting Mythal’s back. Abelas shook his head. Pregnancy hormones.  
“You could go to Elgar’nan’s and check if he has come home yet.” Kallian said to Abelas. “And if he’s not, Falon’Din could pay a visit to his mother so I could come home for an hour or two.”  
Abelas nodded firmly. Something had to be done.

\--

 

Abelas looked at Falon’Din’s temple and frowned. The coloured lights flashing between the stone pillars in distance and the loud music disturbing the peace of eerie scenery promised that his attempt to convince Falon’Din to make a filial visit to Mythal might prove to be futile. But Abelas had never been a man to shirk his duty even when faced by great difficulties, and so he straightened his back and joined the elves sailing down the black river which led Falon’Din’s inner sanctum.

As their boat got closer, his suspicions were confirmed. The temple was filled with light and drunken elves filled the steps. At glance, Abelas recognized few sentinels belonging to June, and priests of at least three different Creators. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw his wife’s cousin Shianni smooching Hamel behind a tree. Trying to repress an urge to give them disapproving look, he mentally filed this information to use if he needed to set Cyrion off balance during their next game of chess.

A rhythmic clapping of hands drew Abelas’ attention. It was coming from the inner sanctum. He was not surprised to see Falon’Din dancing on a table, as a centre of attention. Abelas had always been secretly relieved that his family was not bound to Falon’Din’s service: he had no talent for dancing. Some people claimed it was akin to fighting, but Abelas had never seen the similarities. He was pushing his way through the crowd of swooning people, when something drew his attention. It was a girl sitting on Falon’Din’s altar which was usually reserved for dead bodies. She was watching Falon’Din’s performance and cheering for him, which wasn’t out of ordinary, but she was calling him ‘brother’.

 

Siona had finished her second glass of wine, and it didn’t taste as nearly bad as her first. June had offered her a swig from a bottle he had brought; his wine tasted like strawberries. She had not ever felt as alive as now, dancing on the altar of God of Dead while being dead. Siona giggled at the thought, because it was very funny. She was just testing out popular dance moves from 3000s, like Falon’Din had taught her, when she saw grandfather approaching from the crowd. He looked just like before, and Siona was so pleased that he had come, too. It was her party!  
“Grandfather!” she smiled widely at him. “Welcome to ‘Turning down my first proposal’-party. Falon’Din said I should have one, and he’s the greatest brother anyone could have!”  
Abelas’ lips pursed together in great disapproval and he grabbed Siona, pulling her down from the altar.

“Put me down!” Siona screamed at the top of her lungs. “This is my party, and I’m not going to leave before it ends!”  
Abelas ignored her, navigating his way through the dancing crowds with Siona thrown over his shoulder.  
“Grandfather, if you don’t put me down right now, you will regret it.”, Siona told him, watching the waves of light in the air with speculative eye. Maybe she could use them to her advantage. Seeing inside people wasn’t as nearly as disturbing after two glasses of wine. Senris had taught her how to get out of this stupid position, but Siona didn’t think she could pull it off right now. The sequence of moves was complicated, and she suspected that grandfather remembered it better than she did.  
Abelas snorted.  
“Only one doing any regretting is you next morning when you wake up. What in the Void were you thinking, Siona? You have no business being here at this time of night at all! I’m taking you to my house and we will discuss this _in detail_ when you are sober. “  
Nobody made an innocent word like 'details' sound as threatening as grandfather. But Siona couldn’t go to his house; she was under house arrest, and she had promised papae she wouldn’t go to anywhere except Falon’Din’s before she was three hundred.  
They were nearing the door now, and Siona knew she had to do something. Grandfather would have to listen her arguments, but he would never do it when she was hanging over his shoulder like a sack of flour. It was not a position of authority.

While she was trying to think very hard what to do, Siona’s guards lapsed momentarily. The ever-present gnawing feeling inside her took advantage of her weakened control, and she startled as she felt the essence of sun spreading into her whole body. It was just like with papae in front of mirror, but uncontrolled and chaotic, and she could see her arms and everything shining brightly. Others saw it too, because they were staring at her. Falon’Din had stopped dancing on his table and his dark eyes were watching Siona, too. Siona met his gaze and blinked, and something very odd happened. In next breath, she was not on grandfather’s shoulder, but standing in front of Falon’Din, mere inches away from him. She pressed herself against his bare chest to hide from staring people, not understanding what had just happened.   
“That was interesting.” Falon’Din stated quietly. He raised his voice, addressing Abelas: “Do you really think that you can steal people from my party in Mythal’s name? I would be a poor Creator if I allowed it to happen!”   
People started to laugh and cheer at Falon’Din, but Siona knew he had not done such a thing. It had been her.

 

She ended up sitting on a rock in Falon’Din’s garden. Grandfather looked sad and serious.  
“What has happened to you, da’len?” he asked in grave voice.  
“I can’t tell you.” Siona swallowed.  
“Can’t or don’t want?” grandfather asked.  
“It’s a secret.”  
Grandfather sighed, and leaned forwards.  
“Siona. I find you in the middle of a night from a place where you should not be, under a nominal care of a drunk Creator you didn’t even know when I saw you last, and you don’t look entirely sober either. None of your parents are here, and there is something very wrong with you. Last time we met, you were a little girl with pigtails and a doll. Not like this.”  
Siona didn’t answer, because what could she say?  
“Also, you mentioned something about turning down a proposal? At your age? I can’t imagine Elgar’nan ever allowing anyone to entertain such a thought.” Abelas continued. His yellow eyes were shrewd as he watched her.  
“I think.” he said solemnly, “that you have gotten yourself caught in a mess between Creators, and that is why you think can’t tell me anything.”  
Siona flinched, studying her hands.  
“Just like I thought.” grandfather sighed. “Do you have any coin on you? Even one copper?”  
“Why do you ask?” Siona was surprised.  
“The practice of law in Arlathan is based on the rules from first Elvhenan. They state that any free elvhen may seek to hire an advocate to protect and represent his interests in a conflicting situation. By Mythal’s own judgement, any details told after such a relationship has been established, are strictly confidential, and advocate can’t be asked to divulge them to anyone except Mythal herself.” grandfather explained.  
“It seems to me that you desperately need someone to represent your own interests.” he added.  
“If I hired you for such a position.” Siona said carefully, searching for coin from her pockets “ would you act according to my instructions, or your own professional opinion on what would be best for me?”  
“It’s always better to work with a clever client.” grandfather’s lips curved into a smile. “In this case, we would have to agree on a plan before I can act on your behalf. I can refuse from doing something if I don’t think it’s beneficial for you, but I won’t act without your permission, either.”  
“You are hired.” Siona said, placing two silver coins on Abelas’ palm.

 

\-- Meanwhile in the Deep Roads--

Senris shook his head. He was furious.  
“What were you thinking?” he yelled at Elgar’nan. “You can’t storm here alone and start killing darkspawn under my window. How did you even find this place? Did you know Geldauran had posted an ogre on the bottom of the stairs to keep watch?”  
“Of course I know.” Elgar’nan said and wiped his swords on tablecloth. “I killed it.”  
“I mean did you know it was there before you killed it?”  
“Senris.”, he said firmly. “Stop it. You are ruining our moment.”  
“What moment?” Senris asked, glaring at his lord.  
“It’s been a while since I’ve rescued someone locked in a tower. It’s adorable, sweet sentiment.” Elgar’nan told him, crossing the floor. “I’m touched you went through such a trouble to arrange it.”  
“I did no such-“, Senris tried to protest, but Elgar’nan was not listening.  
Eldest of the Sun pulled the folds of his red cloak around them both. Senris felt a mana surge crackling in the air, and he was going to demand an explanation when Elgar’nan kissed him on the lips. Senris closed his eyes, revelling on the feeling, and his knees went stupidly soft. He heard the low, pleased chuckle of his lord as the spell activated, whisking them both far away from Deep Roads.

 

“Are you still angry at me?” Elgar’nan asked hopefully as naked Senris walked across the room to pour himself a drink.  
“For what?” Senris asked in snarky voice. “Storming alone into Deep Roads, stealing me away like I was some helpless maiden and then proceeding to ravish me for three days?”  
“I only aim to please.” Elgar’nan spread his arms theatrically. “I even cleaned here.”  
“I can smell the ashes, thank you.” Senris said. “Basically you burned everything which was on your way, threw your cloak over the bed to avoid changing the sheets and stashed dozen bottles of my favourite wine on the opposite side of room so you could get a good look on my ass when I got thirsty.”  
“And you still kissed me back.” Elgar’nan said happily.  
“You are hopeless. What should I do with you?” Senris asked and sat down on a bed, handing a glass to Elgar’nan and taking a sip from his own.  
“You could come home with me.”, Elgar’nan suggested, pressing a kiss on Senris’ shoulder.  
“It’s not that simple.” Senris replied.  
“I know you are torn, lethallin, but there is no need for you to whip yourself for something which was outside your control.” Elgar’nan said seriously. “I regret what happened. We all do. But I am not angry at you, and neither is she. She understands.”  
“But essence of the sun, Elgar’nan.” Senris shook his head. “I knew it would change her, but I never even imagined you would try to keep her here after that. It was stupid thing to do."  
“We do stupid things for people we love.” Elgar’nan sighed. “And so far, it is going well.”  
“Have you even told Siona that she is changing? Or the pantheon?”  
“Of course not. How do you propose I tell her? Dear daughter, have you noticed that you are turning into a spirit and shedding your corporeal body bit by bit? That is why you keep having headaches. It’s the same process as when spirits became elvhen, but reversed. Don’t be sad, because your body is merely a dead husk anyway, and you are technically possessing it.”, Elgar’nan said in ridiculous voice.  
“And how you are going to explain when the process is complete and she wakes up next to her own dead body?”  
“Essence of sun makes sure it will not happen like that.” Elgar’nan replied arrogantly. “I would not overlook something so gruesome. She is my heir, not some ordinary spirit.”  
“Good.”, Senris said.  
“She knows some details, but telling her everything now would not help. What she needs is to stay grounded, to stay herself, so she will retain a sense of self when the transformation is over and done. Siona has suffered enough, and I want her to have a peaceful childhood. As much as she is able.” Elgar’nan stated. His tone told Senris that Eldest of the Sun was not going to change his mind, no matter how much they argued, and Senris did not want to fight.

But there were things which needed to be said, no matter how unpleasant they were. He had already pushed them aside for three days, and Senris could not postpone them further.  
“There is something you should know.” he said, tasting the crisp bite of alcohol on his tongue. “About war.”  
“What happened to making love instead of war?” Elgar’nan complained. “If you are not coming back, why you insist talking about work?”  
“I will come back. Eventually.” Senris said. “Stop distracting me. You need to hear this. I have been counting Geldauran’s strength, and it is massive. She has been preparing for this war ever since Mythal’s murder, and she is not playing games. Even if we use the shemlen as a arrow fodder, you need to recall the Executors.”  
Elgar’nan crossed his arms over his chest, sulking.  
“I know how much you enjoy that neither Dread Wolf or Dirthamen haven’t found out about them, but Arlathan lacks the numbers and men to fight.”, Senris argued. “You have resources to win, if you are willing to use them.”  
“It is not my fault that others lacked the necessary foresight to prepare when first signs of Fen’Harel’s rebellion became evident.” Elgar’nan remarked unhappily. “After I overthrew my father, I have always expected someone to attempt the same thing to me one day. And I still don’t trust the Wolf.”  
“I know, my lord.” Senris said patiently. “But you must go to the Executors. They are waiting for your command, and although they followed my guidance when you were imprisoned by Fen’Harel, they won’t accept a command which differs from your original orders from anyone else but God of Vengeance.”  
Elgar’nan didn’t answer.  
“My lord.” Senris sighed. “Think it as a holiday. We could take the little lady with us and travel to north. Siona would be excited to see the place. She could go through her transformation there, and nobody in Arlathan would be any wiser.”  
Elgar’nan was considering it, Senris could tell, but Eldest of the Sun was loath to part with hidden ace in his sleeve.  
“Very well.” Elgar’nan said finally. “But I can’t leave straight away. Mythal is pregnant, and I have to familiarise myself with current state of Arlathan first. The quicklings there may have changed loathsome amount of things during the three years of my uthenera. Also, if I have to bring out the Executors, I want to ensure that the pantheon understands the power structure and the debt they owe to me properly. I am not pleased with Ellana. Someone, probably Andruil, has told her about you and she dared to fling it on my face. After she tried to enter my temple without permission and attacked sentinels when they denied her entry. She needs to be set in her place. I can’t risk having three unreliable members in my pantheon while Mythal is weakened. June never interferes, and I’m not entirely sure about Falon’Din’s goals.”  
“I see.” Senris said slowly.  
“I need you on my side, but in current situation, I think you should to go north first. We will follow you after I have settled the matters with pantheon. Mythal mentioned that Fen’Harel is negotiating with shemlen about alliance against Forgotten Ones. I wish to hear what he proposes. Time will work to our advantage, because fear of losing makes people much more generous with concessions.” Elgar’nan stretched like a cat on the bed.  
“Very well, my lord.” Senris nodded. “I will prepare to cross the sea to north.”  
“Not today.” Elgar’nan requested.  
“Not today.” he agreed, and bent down to kiss him.

 


	48. A favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falon'Din and June discuss Ghilan'nain  
> Fen'Harel comes home

June woke up with unpleasant headache. His mouth tasted like some small critter had died in it. It had happened few times during those centuries he had spent stuck in Deep Roads, cut out from the Fade and unable to utter anything except a single word. The taste of last night’s beer was unpleasantly alike.  
“Good morning.” Falon’Din said. He had draped a curtain over his shoulder to wear instead of clothes. The folds looked artistic; maybe June should use the idea for his next golem.  
“Do you have anything iced?” June asked, holding his head in both hands as he sat up carefully. At least, this time he had not fallen asleep under a table and hurt himself while trying to rise.  
“Of course.” Falon’Din said. He snapped his fingers and an acolyte scurried to bring them drink.  
“I think it must have been a good party last night.” June said as he was offered a drink of ice cold cider. As the alcohol entered his blood stream, he started to feel much better.   
“I certainly think so.”, Falon’Din said, crossing one leg over another and revealing his thigh. “It’s always a good sign when I can’t find my clothes in the morning. But now that you are awake, there is an issue we must discuss.”  
“What is it?” June asked carefully.  
“You own me a favour, I believe.” Falon’Din said lightly. “Do you know that the Dalish still tell the tale of Ghilan’nain? Except they say Ghilly was a Chosen of Andruil, and that Andruil favoured her above all others.”  
June’s expression changed into grimace, and this time, it had nothing to do with the taste of beer.  
“They remember the hunter.” Falon’Din continued. “The Dalish tell that Ghilan’nain was blinded and bound. Some versions skip the rape and more graphic details of her torture, but all of them believe that the hunter could not kill her, so he left her for dead in the forest.”  
“Why you are bringing up old wounds?” June’s voice was more like a hiss than anything else.  
“Because I remember the day you came to me, howling in pain and begging me to help to bring back your child. It was the day Andruil’s mind started to crack, wasn’t it?” Falon’Din asked although he knew the answer. “The day you two were no longer happy. You promised me anything I would ask if I only helped.”  
June did not want to remember. He did not want to remember running through the blasted forest with Falon’Din and Andruil’s keening cry as she held their broken daughter. Ghilan’nain had never been the same. June remembered little white-haired waif who had crafted wonderful spells and items under his guidance. But after her death, the creatures she created had been only monsters, one after another. Andruil’s heart was broken, and she had started hunting the unknown hunter in earnest. She believed he had to have been one of the Forgotten Ones, thinking nobody else would have dared. And so she had changed too, twisted by her sorrow and vengeance. People started to call Andruil Goddess of Sacrifice instead of Goddess of Hunt. And then she had finally found her way to Void, only to come back mad.  
“I’m not going back on my word. What do you want?” June snapped.  
“A very simple thing.” Falon’Din said. “I believe you might even feel sympathetic for the cause. You met my sister last night.”  
He nodded towards a sleeping form of a girl curled on a sofa nearby.   
“Yes.”, June said, trying to figure out Falon’Din’s angle.  
“Not long ago, I witnessed a very familiar scene. A distraught father crying over the body of his murdered daughter. Except Elgar’nan did not beg me. He threatened to burn me into ashes if I didn’t assist. I did what he asked.” Falon’Din said, watching June’s reaction. _Yes_.  
“Not all understand how fragile thing a girl’s mind can be after experience like that. Not everyone cares.” he continued. “In this case, her mother does _not_ care. Yesterday, I stood there and listened Fen’Harel’s paramour telling her daughter that if she does not bond with Anaris, the war against Forgotten Ones will be my sister’s fault, and she is to be blamed for every single death. And then, for a final blow, Lavellan told her that she is not a daughter she wanted.”  
Measuring the effect of his words on June, Falon’Din added the final touch:   
“Have you seen her spirit, June? Elgar’nan’s priests are working in shifts to bring her back every time she twists into Despair, and right now, it looks more like torn lace than a spirit. Lavellan knew very well what her words would cause. I warned her, but she did not heed my advice. I don’t think we need a Creator like that in the pantheon.”  
June looked at the sleeping child, and for a moment, he saw another girl in her place. A memory he did not want to have. But the fragments which clung to her were eerily alike, fresh and sharp.   
“What are you asking from me?” June asked in raspy voice.  
“A simple thing. Your vote against Ellana Lavellan when we vote on whether she should be recognized as a Creator.” Falon’Din said.  
“You may call on your favour later.” June replied. “This one, I will do for free.”

 

“Wake up.”, Falon’Din was shaking her shoulder. “I have things to do, and I want you out from my temple.”  
“What time is it?” Siona asked, rubbing her eyes. She felt groggy with a lingering headache, and when she looked towards the window, sun had barely risen. “How can you be so brisk?”  
“The secret is not going to sleep at all, and drink more before the hangover sets in.”, Falon’Din said like it was something everybody knew. “You truly are an innocent fool, sister.”  
“Why did you let me to fall asleep, then?” Siona asked unhappily.  
“If a person is drunk enough to hire a lawyer, it’s time to end the party for her.”, Falon’Din noted. “Get up. I have places to go, and I can drop you at Elgar’nan’s on the way. Here. Drink this.”  
He pushed a goblet filled with foul-smelling green slime in her hands. Siona wrinkled her nose.  
“It’s a Dalish hangover cure one of my new acolytes cooked up.”, Falon’Din said. “Drink it. I want to see if it works.”  
“But it looks horrible.” Siona said. “Senris told me never to drink unknown substances.”  
“You will either drink it, or Elgar’nan’s sentinels will smell you’ve been a wicked child and rat you to father.”  
“I thought they would know it anyway.” Siona said, not convinced.  
“Of course not. I know how to do these things. I convinced Fanim to lead your sentinel guard to cellars for a little smooching and then I locked the doors. Young temple-bred women are an easy prey. It’s because they are stuck with same people for eons. A new face is irresistible.”  
“You locked Meinwen in the cellar?” Siona started to giggle. “You truly are a master of the Game, brother.”  
Falon’Din looked pleased with the praise.   
“If somebody asks, deny everything.” he advised. “Now, drink the icky stuff. We’ll leave shortly.”  
Siona was so taken her admiration towards Falon’Din’s cleverness that she drank the green slime. She even forgave him for starting to cackle when Siona’s face turned greenish and she had to fight to keep it down.   
“Does it work?” Falon’Din asked curiously when she finally dared to take hands off her mouth.  
“I think so.”, she replied carefully, studying how she felt. “But I thought I was going to throw up. The taste is abhorrent.”  
“You have clearly never been to Andruil’s dinner party.” Falon’Din said. “I have to ask June to test the remedy. Everyone knows he must have lost all ability to taste things long time ago. I once heard him praise Andruil’s stew and ask for second helpings, while Fen’Harel was secretly pouring the contents of his plate in Dirthamen’s boots. Even Sylaise couldn’t eat it, and that woman would have preferred to die than commit discourtesy in a table.”

 

\--

Eager to reach home after being away for almost three weeks, Fen’Harel slowed his steps when he saw Falon’Din loitering near Dread Wolf’s temple. God of Death’s own abode was on other side of the area, built between Dirthamen’s and Mythal’s near the Boulevard of Joy. Fen’Harel had always found the name preposterous, because he was not convinced if Mythal’s children had brought her any joy.  
“Fen’Harel.” Falon’Din greeted him. “How did your negotiations with the shemlen go?”  
“Not very well.” Fen’Harel admitted reluctantly. “The news of Minrathous’ demise have arrived to Val Royeaux, and Andrastian Chantry is not yet sure about our role in what happened. I had two former Grey Wardens with me, and they told their story about Andruil controlling the Wardens, but unfortunately neither of the men are trusted by the Chantry. Divine Victoria demands some kind proof of our good intentions.”  
“Such a woeful tale.” Falon’Din said. “I just arrived from Mythal’s temple. All-Mother asked to inform you that she has called a meeting of the pantheon at sundown in the Chamber of Ruling. You could ask there if someone has an idea for your shemlen alliance, but the main subject of discussion is a vote on your paramour’s divinity.”  
Fen’Harel was taken by surprise, and although he regained the control of his emotions in a blink, a smug smile appeared on Falon’Din’s face.   
“Why now?” Fen’Harel asked.   
“Why not now?” Falon’Din retorted. “No time like present, like Ghilly always said!”  
God of Death turned to leave, and as he turned around the corner of the street, Fen’Harel heard that Falon’Din was _whistling_ under his breath.  
That was the moment when Fen’Harel knew something was seriously fucked up.   
“Wait!” he yelled. “What about Elgar’nan? I heard in the eluvian chamber that he is not in Arlathan.”  
Falon’Din turned to face him and smiled beautifully.   
“Believe me, brother. You want this vote to be held before Elgar’nan comes home. His sentinels expect him tomorrow morning.”

He found Ellana from the study. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a group of children who listened as she recited the story about fall of the Dales.   
“Now, children, which one of you remembers the oath of the Dales?” she asked in her Keeper voice.  
All hands were lifted up.  
“Let me, let me!” the children chorused, speaking over one another.   
“Tamriel.”, Ellana granted favour to freckled little boy. He stood up, beaming with pride, and recited:   
“We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last elvhen. Never again shall we submit.”  
“Excellent.”, Ellana smiled at him. “You all will build a fine future for Clan Lavellan.”  
“I thought we were clan Vhen’Harel.” a little girl said uncertainly.   
“There is no reason why you can’t be both.” Fen’Harel said, leaning against the doorframe. “A new future for the People, keeping what was best in our past and discarding the rest. But now is time for you to scatter; I have just returned from long journey and I have things to discuss with my vhenan.”

“You were very lenient about children’s lesson.” Ellana remarked as Fen’Harel closed the door after the children.   
“I find it futile to argue with you. I am a product of my own past; you will always be yours.” Fen’Harel told her. “I still disagree with many Dalish sentiments, but as a whole, they are not entirely without worth.”  
“Entirely?” Ellana raised her eyebrows mockingly. “What happened to ‘if the Dalish could have raised a spirit like yours’?”  
“It was before I knew you were half-ancient.”, Fen’Harel said with fake snobbery. “It’s only natural I would be drawn to you, then.”  
They looked at each other, and Ellana started to laugh first.  
“You were gone entirely too long.”, she said. “I almost forgot how much I enjoyed your wicked sense of humour. But I have news; wonderful news.”  
“I already heard from Falon’Din, and I’m pleased for you, although I suspect of ulterior motive.”  
“What that insufferable dandy has to do with my Enethriel?” Ellana asked sharply. “Is he shadowing my every move, then?”  
“What about Enethriel?”  
“I’ve found my Dalish son, Solas. He has grown up so _well._ ” Ellana’s voice barely contained her motherly pride. “He’s a Keeper of his own Clan, now, and he has not forgotten me. I met him in the Fade again last night, and... I can’t tell how much it means to me to have him in my life. He is everything a mother could hope for.”  
“I’m pleased for you.” Fen’Harel said slowly. “But I thought that... How did his clan survive Elven Heresy Resolution?”  
Inwardly, he was cursing himself for not telling Ellana about seeing Enethriel in the Fade years ago. But how one would start a discussion like that? Vhenan, do you know that our daughter thinks she accidentally might have killed your son? At the time, Ellana had just returned from imprisonment and he had been angry at her for hiding the truth about Siona. So Fen’Harel had never told, and forgotten all about the boy.   
“They found shelter in Tirashan forest. Humans do not enter there.” Ellana said smoothly. For a moment, Fen’Harel had an inkling that she was not telling him the whole truth, but eager to drop the topic, he moved on more pressing issue:  
“I met Falon’Din at the gates. He said that Mythal has summoned Creators to Chamber of Ruling at the sundown. She wishes to call a vote on your ascension.”  
Ellana’s surprise was genuine.  
“Now? Why now?”  
“I do not know. I heard Elgar’nan is not in Arlathan, and Falon’Din said something about how I would want this vote to be held before Elgar’nan returns tomorrow morning.” Fen’Harel said. “Why would he say something like that, vhenan?”  
The look on Ellana’s face was all the answer he needed.

 

“Do you understand how serious this is?” Fen’Harel yelled, walking back and forth in the study. “There are no People with divinity except Creators! Fenedhis, they have killed people for simply taking the form of divine, and if you do not win the vote, you will be dead before tomorrow night.”  
Ellana was sitting by the table, looking as stubborn as ever.   
“What were you thinking?” Fen’Harel demanded. “Elgar’nan is a mad dog, and you deliberately provoked him! He liked you, and his was the one vote I could count on to support your claim. I understand you were distraught over Lisel, but you still should not have attacked his guards, or tried to break into his temple. And even after that, why you couldn’t stay a day longer in his temple? You disobeyed a direct order! When I did that, it sparked a rebellion, and you don’t have the power or the men at your disposal I had then.”  
“I’m not afraid of Elgar’nan.” Ellana said.  
“You should be. He might have liked you before, but he has never taken disobedience gladly, and he was angry at you to begin with.” Fen’Harel snapped. “Why didn’t you send a word? I could have thought of something to get you out of this, but now there is no time! The vote is in few hours.”  
“Why you are so worried?” Ellana asked. “Falon’Din will surely vote against me. We don’t get along. But Mythal knows me, and she has no reason to deny my ascension. After she found out Siona is yours, we have gotten along fine. And I have never had any troubles with June. I assume you will vote for me, so it will be three out of four.”  
“Are you certain of this?” Fen’Harel asked, mussing his long hair in anxiety. “You can’t be. You must make offers, plead for support. Promise assistance. Or maybe you should flee.”  
“Flee?” Ellana didn’t believe her own ears. “Flee to where?”  
“I don’t know!” Fen’Harel replied. “Somewhere, where Creators can’t get to you. Or give away your divinity. No, it would not be enough. To have been a god would be damning enough.”  
“What do you want me to do, then? Run away and hope nobody ever finds me, simply because you are suspecting I’ll lose?”  
“I want you to think! This is as deadly as it was in Halamshiral. You didn’t just barge in there, and you shouldn’t do it now, either. It is customary to make offers. The Creators may request gifts from you, in exchange for their vote.” Fen’Harel said. “Think of this through. Think what they might want, how to make them think that your ascension is in their best interest. How to make an offer they can’t refuse. You know Mythal better than anyone, and you need only one vote added to mine. A tie is enough to request postponing the whole thing, and giving you time to make your case.”  
She looked at the window. It was merely an hour or two before sundown.

 


	49. End of an era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elgar'nan breaks up with Mythal. And other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your daily dose of angst is best served with:  
> Batman Arkham City Main theme  
> https://youtu.be/SXKrsJZWqK0  
> and  
> The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim OST: Far Horizons https://youtu.be/Ga8KbMcUfm8

“I will take your request under consideration. It was good from you to inform me about what happened. If you gain any new information, I expect you to dispatch a note to me without delay. Mythal.” Siona read. “What does it mean?”  
“I don’t know.” Lisel said. “Maybe it’s a polite way to tell you that she is not going to give you what you wanted.”  
“Your... advocate told us that he is going to apply Mythal again after pantheon meeting tonight, and if she does not grant your request, then he will ask Fen’Harel.” Venial said. “But there is no reason for you to worry, little one.”  
“But if Mythal does not transfer my guardianship to papae from Fen’Harel, I might be screwed.” Siona looked worried. “Grandfather says that Fen’Harel does not stop to count the cost when he decides a sacrifice must be done, and mother might be able to persuade him. I don’t think I’m ready to marry anyone.”  
“If they say that you have to marry Anaris, you could always fry them. Or him. Or everyone.” Lisel said helpfully.  
“That is true.” Venial nodded. “Stop fretting, da’len. You are safe within walls of our lord’s temple, and no matter what the other Creators decide, we can always ignore it. They have no means or power to push our lord into doing anything he does not want. Also, as a woman of your position, this issue will come to you many times during your life. Many men and women will compete for your bond, and your only problem is deciding how to let them down.”  
“You are always so good at calming me down, Venial.” Siona smiled at her. The sentinel took up a brush and started untangling Siona’s hair.  
“How do you know so much of these things?” Lisel asked. “I want to know.”  
“Before I became Venial, I was a daughter of a noble house in Arlathan.” Venial said. “Children of nobility were rare, because raising one required so much time and effort to ensure she would be an honor for the house instead of embarrassment. Also, there were only so many respectable positions to be shared among the ruling glass, and not everyone could become the king.”  
Her lips twisted in a dry grimace as she continued:  
“As it is now, back then parents’ authority over their child was limitless. A head of a house decided if a child should live, or die; whether she should be given to service of a god or cast down as a lowest of slaves. I won’t go to details. All you need to know that there were abuses made in the name of authority, with wishes it would someday gain more power for our house.”  
Having finished brushing, Venial started weaving a crown of braids around girl’s head.  
“The Creators did not live among us then. They resided in the Golden City. After one particularly bad day, I escaped from my family and ran to this place.” she said calmly. “The priests let me in, seeing how distraught I was. I prayed on our lord’s altar, and begged him to bring down my whole house for what they had done to me. I was nothing but a slip of a girl then, not yet five hundred.”  
“What did papae do?” Siona’s voice was barely a whisper.  
Venial smiled at her through the mirror and replied:  
“He came down in flesh. I kneeled at his feet, kissing the hem of his cloak, and he promised me vengeance, overflowing and sweet. He kept me by his side through the night, and when morning came, nothing of my House remained. It was like the family had never existed at all.”  
“You are wrong.” Lisel said. “You remained.”  
“No, I did not. I had become Venial, a sworn servant of Elgar’nan. What I had been before, the daughter of that House, was gone too.” Venial answered.  
“But did it make you happy? The vengeance upon your former House?” Siona asked uncertainly.  
“Of course it did not. But I think you already know, little one that some hurts are so deep that there is no forgiveness to be found. Turning down Anaris’ offer and the peace did not make you happy, but you couldn’t forget what happened to our lord and your divine brother. Sometimes vengeance is necessary to reclaim what makes you your own person. It’s stating your own right to exist, your own right to choose, and it is the only way you can make bad things to end. The dot in the end of a sentence to finish it all.”  
“Thank you, Venial.” Siona said. “You have given me much to think about.”  
“Anytime, da’len.” the sentinel said. “Now, do you want pale pink flowers or blue ones for your hair?”

 

She was just going through the motions of her dancing practice with Llowyn substituting for Falon’Din, when Olaus came to inform her that Elgar’nan had returned.  
“Papae!” she yelled as she ran to meet him. “Papae!”  
She jumped on his arms, winding her legs around his waist. Elgar’nan laughed.  
“You are like a strangling vine, da’len.” he said. “I was worried you might have matured too much while I was gone, but I’m pleased to see it is not the case.”  
“I wouldn’t do that.” Siona said, basking in his warmth.  
“So, princess, what have you done lately?” Elgar’nan asked, sitting down. “You must tell me everything.”  
Siona bit her lip. Behind Elgar’nan’s back, Amanya took a priceless crystal sculpture from the table and handed it to Llowyn, who quietly left with it.  
“I may have started a war.”, she said.  
“A war?” an amused smile rippled on Elgar’nan’s lips.  
“Yes. Then mother shouted at me and told I’m not her daughter. Falon’Din threw me a party because he said that turning down a proposal is reason to celebrate, and if my mother thought that bonding Anaris was such a great idea, _she_ should be doing it, not me.”, Siona explained hurriedly. “And then I hired grandfather to apply to Mythal for removing the paternal rights from Fen’Harel, so he would not be able to force me go through it. I don’t know yet if she will accept my plea, but grandfather said that Mythal has called a meeting of Creators where they are going to vote about mother’s divinity and Anaris’ proposal. I think it started maybe an hour ago, at sundown. Did I do the right thing, papae?”  
Elgar’nan’s expression had changed.  
“Amanya.”, he said in icy voice. “Explain me what exactly has happened here. Where is Ellana Lavellan, and what fenedhis is this talk about Anaris and meeting of the pantheon?”

\--

 

Abelas shifted his feet, trying to ignore the ache on his back. He had been standing behind Mythal’s throne ever since the meeting started four hours ago, and it looked like he wasn’t going to get home anytime soon. They were still debating the pros and cons of his daughter’s divinity, and although the issue was extremely important, Abelas wanted nothing but go home, eat something and fall asleep next to his wife before their sons woke him up with their screaming. It was the problem with having two babies. If one of them woke up, he immediately wanted to wake up his brother, too, and then they both screamed. Or they took sleeping in turns, so he got no sleep at all. Abelas appreciated their grasp of strategy, but he would have appreciated sleep even more.  
Kallian looked at him from her place by a window, and the corners of Abelas’ lips curved upwards although there was nothing to smile about. She crooked her finger, gesturing him to come to her. Abelas glanced at the Creators, but June was still droning on and on about divine portfolios and if it was technically possible for Ellana to know what she was attuned to. June’s monologue had been going on for better part of an hour, and Falon’Din was openly yawning on his throne. Deciding Mythal could do without his undivided attention for a minute, Abelas slipped from his place and sneaked to his wife.  
“Look.”, Kallian whispered. “There is something odd going on down there.”  
Abelas saw at once what she was talking about. Elves were hurrying from different parts of the city up to the hill where Elgar’nan’s temple loomed. Almost everyone was carrying something heavy. He saw crates and bundles. Some of more industrial ones had whole carts pulled by harts or halla. His eyes widened as he saw a tailor from artisan quarter pushing a wheeled rack of ready-made gowns up the hill.  
“It started as a trickle maybe half an hour ago. I have counted over seven hundred elves by now.” Kallian whispered. “No sign of Elgar’nan, his sentinels or his priests.”  
“What about their vallaslin?” Abelas asked.  
“Most of them are his, but not all. There are some marked to other Creators, and many unmarked ones, too. It is curiously diverse group.”

 

Few moments later the Creators stared at the window as flame-robed priests were placing crystal staves filled with pure lyrium to form a circular pattern on the bottom of Elgar’nan’s hill. His sentinels had appeared too, and they were herding the elves who kept arriving. Only few of newcomers entered the temple. Many were simply camping on the hill, keeping well away from the circle of staves.  
“All right.” Falon’Din said slowly. “Who is going to go there and ask what is happening?”  
Mythal was going to answer, when a huge tremor shook the ground below them. She would have fell, if Abelas hadn’t caught her in time.  
“What in the Void was that?” Ellana asked with a grimace on her face. She had hit her head on Dirthamen’s throne, and her scratched scalp stung.  
June pulled his beloved cube from his pocket and looked at runic scripture flashing across it.  
“One of the orbs keeping Arlathan afloat has been removed from western tower.” he said. “Shit.”  
“Vhenan. Go with June and do what you can.”, Fen’Harel commanded. “The rest of us will go to Elgar’nan’s temple and find out what is happening.”

\---

 

They had gotten inside Elgar’nan’s temple, but not further than the temple vestibule. A stern sentinel had informed that his lord was busy and would attend them shortly. In Falon’Din’s opinion ‘shortly’ seemed to be exaggeration. Mythal’s eyes were hard and annoyed, while Fen’Harel was pacing back and forth in small room like a caged dog.  
When the door opened, they all were more than ready to leave, but it was not a sentinel. The little desire demon who played Siona’s handmaiden slipped inside the room.  
“Lisel!” Fen’Harel greeted the demon. “I have heard you got trouble in—“  
“Not now, Fen’Harel. I’m working, and I want to finish my task first.” the creature said irritably and turned towards Falon’Din. “My lady would like to have a word with you in private. At your pleasure.”  
Falon’Din stood up and straightened the tails of his coat.  
“I think I have time now.” he said. “It’s certainly better than sitting here until mould starts to grow over me.”  
He quite enjoyed the annoyed glance his mother gave him as he glided through the door. Provoking Mythal was always a pleasure, and not as nearly as lethal as annoying father, like their delegation was sure to do. His chances of surviving without grievous injuries or a sword stuck through him had just improved enormously. Siona surely knew something about what was going on. All in all, Falon’Din considered this change of events a success.

He found his sister in her room. Servants were wrapping easily breakable items in cloth and packing them in sturdy boxes. The inner door leading to Elgar’nan’s suite revealed the more elves attending the same task. Her chamber looked bare and almost austere; paintings had been taken down, table turned upside down and the chairs were sideways on the floor. Siona stood in the middle of half-empty room while a tailor with two assistants was sewing a half-finished gown on her, fitting it as they worked.  
“You know you have to be cut out from that one.” Falon’Din remarked. “Or at least the pieces have to be taken apart. It’s very tedious way to dress.”  
“Brother.” she breathed. “I was worried I would not see you in time. Could you do me a favour?”  
Lisel took a small bundle from the table and gave it to Falon’Din. God of Death opened the wrappings to take a peek inside and frowned.  
“A baby smock? What do you want me to do with a baby smock?”  
“I made it for Dirthamen. When he is born again. I planned to give it myself, but now I can’t, and I don’t know if I will ever see him again.” she said sadly. “Could you give it to him? From me?”  
“Yes, but what do you mean? Has father decided to send you away because of Anaris?” Falon’Din asked, taking another look at her dress which was just being hemmed. The fabric shone like light of a stars, silvery and grand enough to be well suited for a wedding. Or coronation. Any official celebration, really.  
“We are all leaving.” Siona said before Lisel interrupted her with a make-up spell. Falon’Din wondered if he should get a desire demon valet, too. They were clearly very good at cosmetics.  
“Leaving where?” Falon’Din was starting to grow alarmed.  
“I don’t know. Away from Arlathan.” Siona said, wringing her hands. “Papae was furious when he heard what happened. And then when he learned that you were voting about my bond and mother’s divinity without telling him, he lost it.”  
“Has he made another ocean?” Falon’Din asked.  
“No, it’s far worse. He stopped shouting and breaking things, and then he went to Fade to give instructions to Senris. You know how father hates the Fade.” Siona swallowed. “When he came back, he told that we are leaving. People started coming to temple, and Amanya said papae has commanded that we’ll take everyone who wants to leave with us. I haven’t spoken with papae again after he went to Fade, but Venial brought these people here, stating that father requires my presence soon and I should dress according to my new position.“  
“Which is?”  
“Nobody has told me.”, Siona shook her head. “But I think we will find out soon enough. I don’t understand what is happening, and I don’t know if I will see you ever again.”  
Her eyes started to shine with unshed tears, and Falon’Din pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.  
“Now, now, don’t start crying. ”, he said, patting the corner of her eyes carefully. “You know I don’t like weepy people. I see too many of them in Beyond, and all that wailing is getting on my nerves.”  
Her lips curved in a shaky smile, and she let him dry her tears.  
“That’s much better.”, Falon’Din told her. “If you haven’t come back when Dirthamen is born, I will give your present to him. And we have a dance to finish. I wouldn’t forget you. You are my favourite dead person.”  
“That is the most backhanded compliment I have heard for a while.” Elgar’nan’s voice interrupted their conversation.

 

Falon’Din looked carefully at their father. Elgar’nan was wearing grand golden robes, and looked as immaculate as always, but there was something off about him. Furious, yes. It was hardly new. And... _fed up_ was the adjective coming to mind. For a moment, Falon’Din could have sworn he saw a blazing light flashing in Elgar’nan’s blue eyes, but it had to be his overactive imagination.  
“You have finished?” Elgar’nan asked from tailor and her assistants.  
“Yes, my lord.” they bowed deep.  
“You are dismissed. I like your work and wish to retain your services; do not leave the temple grounds.”  
The elves left, curtsying and babbling compliments, but Elgar’nan ignored them, turning to Siona.  
“We must see to our guests, daughter. Sun is coming up within an hour; everything must be ready then. Can you feel it, princess?”  
“I think I do.”, she replied in small voice. “The whispers are very loud, father. I don’t like it.”  
“You are mistaken.” Falon’Din cut into conversation. “It is at least four hours before sunrise.”  
“Is it, now?” Elgar’nan asked lightly and took Siona’s arm, guiding her to hallway.

 

“There is no reason for you to be afraid, da’len.” Elgar’nan said as he walked with Siona, letting Falon’Din to trail them. “Things have happened which were never supposed to happen, but I will not allow anyone to hurt you again.”  
“You will not let them to marry me to Anaris?” Siona asked, and Falon’Din cringed inwardly, preparing to slam down a barrier, catch the child and run before father lost it.  
But Elgar’nan was strangely calm.  
“No.”, he replied serenely. “You will never again even hear his name spoken. We are going to a better place. This world has been ruined beyond repair. I should not have spent so long trying to save something which does not deserve to be saved.”  
“This better place you speak of sounds odd, and a bit worrying.” Siona said.  
“Don’t worry so, little one. Senris is already there, waiting for us. I’m sure you will like it there. You can play in my mother’s garden, while Falon’Din’s children watch over you. “  
Falon’Din felt blood rushing on his face. Elgar’nan, the bastard, glanced over his shoulder and smirked.  
“Falon’Din told me he doesn’t have babies although he does the slimy thing all the time.” Siona pointed out.  
“He lied. His firstborn were a litter of extremely odd-looking children, even compared to modern qunari.” Elgar’nan said. “But they and their children and all the generations following made a wonderful army. There are some rage issues, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I would call the kossith downright unstoppable. Did you know they drove the earliest shemlen tribes away from their original lands? And the qunari, too, while I was imprisoned?”  
“They sound very formidable.” Siona replied seriously.  
“They are, da’len, although their brains are rather small, making them single-minded lot. Comes from mother’s side. They call themselves ‘The Executors’.”  
Falon’Din wanted to hide in a hole. A very small, very dark hole, preferably somewhere far away. If he saw one now, he would dash in and never come out again. This was undoubtedly the most embarrassing moment of his life. Executors? What kind of idiots would pick something so artificial, tacky and… No. He didn’t want to know. It was bad enough to know that father knew, apparently had known for some time now, because Elgar’nan had made an army from Falon’Din’s little accident, instead of drowning them at birth like a decent father would have done. But no. His father was a God of Vengeance, and Falon’Din knew with utmost certainty that one day Elgar’nan would send one of the horrible creatures to his door just to see him cringe. Oh, how Falon’Din wished he had listened to Dirthamen when his twin told that having a giantess while shapeshifted into a dragon was a stupid idea, and he should not do it. Why, oh why the lure of giant boobs had won over common sense?

 

Falon’Din was still too stunned to say anything when they entered Elgar’nan’s throne room. He stayed in the middle of the room, dazed, as Elgar’nan started climbing the steps leading up to a dais and throne looming high above Falon’Din. Siona followed her father, sitting down at his feet.  
“Are you ready, da’len?” Elgar’nan asked gently.  
“Yes, papae.” she said. “I’m not afraid. I think the place you speak of sounds better than this one. If Senris is there, I will be happy to go. I’m tired of being afraid of Forgotten Ones and people wrecking our house.”  
“I know, little one. To be honest, I’m very tired of this too.” Elgar’nan replied. “I don’t know why I put up with this for so long. It’s not like I ever needed a pantheon.”  
“I think you loved them, papae.” Siona said, looking up at him. “It’s hard to give up people you love.”  
“It is.”, Elgar’nan sighed. “But pain is just a door, and this has been a long time coming.”  
“If it gets too bad, take my hand. They will think I’m the one needing it.”, Siona offered.  
“Thank you, da’len. I will keep that in mind.” Elgar’nan said and signalled to guards to open the double doors.

Mythal had clearly not arrived to trade compliments. If it was possible, she looked even more annoyed than an hour ago, and a bit greenish, Falon’Din thought.  
“I want you to tell me why you have taken your orb, and why you are letting People squatter on your temple grounds.”, Mythal announced as soon as she and Fen’Harel were let in the room.  
“Straight to business, then?” Elgar’nan asked. “The answer is very simple. I’m leaving, and I need my orb. You have to find another way to keep the city afloat.”  
“Leaving where?” Fen’Harel asked. “Again to hunt Forgotten Ones?”  
“Do I need to put it in small words for you?” Elgar’nan asked, his voice becoming harsher. “I am leaving away. Going. Dissolving the pantheon. Resigning as your All-Father. Which wasn’t worth anything anyway, since you _never_ listened.”  
It was not an answer they had expected. Mythal was the one to recover first.  
“You can’t do it.”, she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is just a ploy to gain attention, and act hurt because you feel slighted.”  
“I indeed feel slighted.”, Elgar’nan said and Falon’Din noticed Siona taking their father’s jewelled hand and placing it on her shoulder, resting her fingers over his. She had been right. It looked like Elgar’nan comforting a frightened child.  
“But your attention is something I would have needed much earlier, Mythal.” his voice was utterly calm. “You wanted to have cities. I built them for you. You wanted to have friends. I called them from Fade for you. You asked if I loved you better than anyone else, and I named you my vhenan. You wanted to be revered, and I named you a goddess. Do you remember Geldauran asking why you instead of her? Why gods should be born, not made?”  
Mythal’s mouth was a thin line, and she did not answer.  
“I have been wondering one thing, my love, and I would like to hear an answer before I go. You knew Fen’Harel had locked us away. Weak as you were, you were not without means to influence fate. Why, then, you never searched for me? Why you never came for me, and I had to come to look for you? Why you let me believe you were dead, and mourn you for three thousand years?”  
Mythal looked at Elgar’nan, and said slowly:  
“It was not necessary.”  
“Ah.”, Elgar’nan said, and his eyes were very bright. “Necessity. The most convenient excuse of them all. I would ask you to come with me, but that isn’t going to happen, I assume? You don’t need to answer. Just spare us both from discomfort. I know very well I have never been nothing but a necessary fool for you.”  
Falon’Din stared at them. This could not be happening. Oh, for fuck’s sake.  
“You are only the fool you make of yourself.” Mythal’s words were sharp. “Do not play innocent. You are not only one who has gotten hurt.”  
“It is true.” Elgar’nan allowed. “But we could make it stop. Make this all to stop. Be happy like we were, before the People and the pantheon. When the children were small, and time itself was young. I could give it to you. All you need to do is to come with me. This world is wrong. We don’t need it. It’s beyond saving.”  
“I do not believe so.”, Mythal said firmly. “And you can’t just run away when you no longer want to play. Your responsibilities do not end simply if you wish so.”  
“It seems to me that my responsibilities are ending and beginning as it suits to you.” Elgar’nan’s voice was sharper, less kind. “If you want me to be leader of this blasted pantheon, why you call a vote on Ellana Lavellan’s divinity while I’m gone? Isn’t it a meeting All-Father should see to?”  
Mythal did not answer.  
“It was Anaris who finally opened my eyes.” Elgar’nan told her. “You are like wolf at my door, Mythal. Circling and waiting for me to turn around for a second, and then you are at it. You will never leave my little one to be. I know you don’t like her, but a spirit of Justice arranging a meeting where sole purpose is to sell my da’len to Anaris? You never were the same after you died, and I find myself missing what you were.”  
His voice dropped a register, the tune changing to intimate:  
“Tell me, love, how the votes fell on the future branches of your leafless tree when I was not there?”  
Mythal smiled at him, and it was terrible cold smile.  
“Two against three, dear.” Mythal said. “Falon’Din and June against the rest of us. Ellana wanted peace, while my Fen has never been able to resist a greater purpose. To his defence, he planned to kill Geldauran at the wedding feast to end the Blight and needed Siona to build the necessary trust between them and us.”  
Falon’Din saw something fragile dying in his sister’s eyes, and Fen’Harel looked aghast.  
“You have always been jealous.” Elgar’nan said, not surprised at slightest. “But there is no need to discuss this matter further. I leave the pantheon at your hands; you can do what you wish for Thedas. I no longer care.”  
“Are you actually serious about this?” Mythal asked, her voice uncertain for a first time during their conversation. “Do you mean what you say?”  
Elgar’nan simply nodded, looking her in the eye.

Then he turned his gaze on Fen’Harel.  
“You always fancied yourself a leader, Dread Wolf. You thought how much better it would have been, if only you were the All-Father instead of me. This is your one chance to test it. I think you will look back to your days as a rebel lord with regrets once you have seen everything from position I held. You may consider this as my final gift of vengeance on you.”  
“I don’t care if you leave.” Fen’Harel answered firmly. “But you will not take my daughter with you.”  
“No.”, Siona spoke for the first time. “Fen’Harel, I will leave with papae. I simply don’t want to do this anymore. You all have promised to stop, and let me be, but something always happens and then it begins all over again. You keep pulling and pushing me between you, like a pack of dogs with a toy they all want. You know what happens to a toy? It breaks. I don’t want to.”  
She looked at Fen’Harel, and her expression was sad.  
“I’m very sorry, Dread Wolf. I like you, but it’s too late to change everything what has happened. I’m not really real to mother, and I’m not entirely sure if I’m real to you, either. She has this idea of a girl in her mind, and she hates it when I’m not what she thought I would be.”  
“I know, da’len.” Fen’Harel said sadly.

Someone knocked on the door.  
“We are ready, my lord.” one of the priests announced, peeking inside.  
Elgar’nan rose up from his throne, and nodded to sentinels as he descended down the steps.  
“It is time for you to go.” he addressed his guests. “Unless you wish to leave Thedas.”  
Mythal looked incredulous.  
“You are bluffing.” she said. “You wouldn’t do something like this. You _wouldn’t_.”  
“I’m not.” Elgar’nan replied, and placed his hand on the small of her back, gently pushing Mythal out from the door. “Falon’Din will take care of you. I will come for Dirthamen when it is time, but it is the last time we will meet.”  
He nodded to his son, who hurried to Mythal’s side, taking her arm and leading her forwards.

 

Siona and Fen’Harel were the last to leave. The night was still dark and filled with stars as they walked out from Elgar’nan’s temple. The moment after they had crossed the border of staves, Siona stopped.  
"I wanted to give a gift for you before I go, Fen’Harel.” Siona said timidly. “I hope you like it.”  
She pulled hood of her cloak away from her face, and concentrated. A soft glow of light wreathed her face, and her features changed. Her nose became wider, the soft curve of her jaw more pronounced and angular. The silky silver tresses turned into mess of ginger curls. When she looked at Fen’Harel, her eyes were not Elgar’nan’s striking blue but a softer colour, a mixture of blueish grey.  
“I’m not sure if it would have been exactly like this, because it’s hard to get all details right from an old memory of a baby, but I think this is quite close.” she said.  
Fen’Harel watched the woman in front of him, too deeply touched to say a single word. She looked like his mother. And a bit like Abelas. There was Ellana in the seriousness on her face, but most of it was from his mother. Fen’Harel had not thought of his own parents for a very long time, and for fleeing moment, he wondered what his mother would have said of this. She had always despaired of Fen’Harel being too wild and unruly to ever settle down.  
“I think papae is right when he says that I’m far prettier looking like me, but I thought you might want to see what I was first.” she said uncertainly. “I hope I didn’t upset you? You haven’t said anything."  
“You did nothing wrong, Siona. I will always treasure your gift.” Fen’Harel said, feeling a tightness in his throat.  
She let the illusion fade, and Fen’Harel felt a pang of loss. It was a foolish thing, really, because he had always prided himself for seeing under surface and this was the face of daughter he loved.  
He wanted to say so many things. That he was sorry for everything; that he loved her, and thought that his mother would have loved her too. That he wanted to remake the world into a place where she could live freely, not bound by web of revenge and doubt from the moment of her birth. That although he regretted many things in his life, he had never regretted her. But all those words died on his lips as he heard Elgar’nan calling her.  
“It’s papae.”, Siona said, turning to look. “You must go.”  
“Da’len, I...” he began.  
“Yes?” Siona asked.  
“Ar lath ma, ma’len.” he said.  
She smiled gently.  
“I know, you silly Wolf.”  
She stepped closer and kissed his cheek. Her lips were warm, and Fen’Harel smelled the sweet scent of perfume made from apple blossoms.  
“Farewell, father.” she whispered in his ear, and then Siona turned away, pulling the hood of her cloak up again.

 

“Tell me he is not going to go through with this, Fen’Harel.” Mythal said, staring at the other side. Her face was pale as snow, and her confidence was starting to crack. “He is just playing with us. He has to be.”  
Inside the circle, Elgar’nan said something in low voice, and Siona answered. Fen’Harel thought he heard the word ‘irreplaceable’, but he wasn’t sure. The God of Vengeance looked at Fen’Harel and Mythal who stood on the other side of gate. For a few seconds, Fen’Harel thought he saw compassion on All-Father’s expression, and touch of something sad and lost. But the moment passed, and like all fragile things of mortal world, understanding between them was gone soon enough.  
Elgar’nan turned away, taking his daughter’s hand, and Fen’Harel saw Eldest of the Sun opening a portal to Void.

 

A whispering voice sliding across his skin like a snake  
-a flash of light –  
Elgar’nan grabbing a shining creature who had burst out from the Void  
-a flash of light-  
Siona screaming as the light travelled through Elgar’nan to her over their linked hands  
-a flash of light-  
Elgar’nan burning like a living flame  
-a flash of light-  
“The staves, da’len. The staves!”, and Siona closing her hand around the shaft of crystal staff  
-a flash of light-  
The circle of staves lighting up, one by one, until the circle was complete  
-a flash of light-  
He and she shining spirits like Fen’Harel had never seen; purified by light’s heat and living flame. Tears fell on his cheeks, and he heard Mythal crying  
-a flash of light, brighter than any before-

 

And then it all ended.

At first, Fen’Harel thought he was blind. His eyes were sore and watering, and he wiped them on his sleeve. Slowly, his vision returned, but there was nothing to see in a faint light of stars. Except a gaping hole on where the circle of lyrium staves had been. Elgar’nan’s temple, the hill, all those people were simply not there. All that remained were the shattered crystal staves bordering the edge of Void.

An old epitaph came to his mind, strangely fitting to this odd situation. The Inquisition had found it from Elgar’nan’s Bastion in the Emerald Graves.

Fire stirred, ever an impatient heart,  
But she would not be moved.  
Siona, Falon'Din enasal enaste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end. Yet. Fen'Harel still has to beat Forgotten Ones. But you won't see Elgar'nan, Siona or any of those who left with them again in "Wrath of Heaven".  
> As I've mentioned before, I'm planning of writing a few epilogue stories taking place in the same world as this one. If you have ideas/characters you would like to see, or questions answered, drop me a comment so I can start thinking. This series has required so much world-building that I'm loath to part with it just yet.


	50. Embrace the destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are men who struggle against destiny, and achieve only an early grave. There are men who flee destiny, only to have it swallow them whole. And there are men who embrace destiny, and do not show their fear. These are the ones who change the world. Forever.”   
> -Flemeth
> 
> Ellana Lavellan decides to do what is necessary. In this case, a coup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second-last chapter. I'm doing my best to weave all ends together, but it's unavoidable that I'll miss some. If you want epilogue stories or "What If"-drabbles, drop a comment, and I'll see if it sparks some ideas.

“Elgar’nan is gone. He took Siona and over one quarter of Arlathan’s population with him. Including every single tailor and confectioner of fluffy cakes. Here is a huge hole in the middle of the city, and June is building a wooden lid to cover it before someone stumbles into it. He estimates that the city will fall within two hours if one of us isn’t using her own power to keep it in the air.”, Fen’Harel said morosely. “We have lost our greatest weapon against the Blight.”  
“The situation isn’t as grave as you think.”, Ellana said. “We could turn this into our advantage if we act quickly.”  
“What do you mean?”, Fen’Harel looked up. “Do you know where they went?”  
“No.”, Ellana replied, leaning back in her chair. “I learned a valuable lesson during last two weeks, Fen’Harel. The world Elgar’nan wanted to have back is not the one I want. His people think differently than we do. He would never have agreed to be anything less than a king on his throne, and this tantrum proves it. We hosted a single meeting without him, he packs his toys and goes away to sulk, waiting for us to beg him to come back.”  
“That is true, but what are you aiming at, vhenan? Dissecting Elgar’nan’s motives don’t change the fact that he took our daughter with him.”  
“It is a bitter truth, Solas, but I think it is time to admit Siona is forever lost to us.”, Ellana said. “You know better than anyone how much I wanted it to be different. But whatever I tried, she remained stubborn and resistant. That girl is Elgar’nan’s creature, through and through, and I have given up trying to change that. She is no different than any of his sentinels, bound by magic and raised up to be this.. selfish and spoiled child who adores her captor.”  
“What happened between you two?”, Fen’Harel asked, surprised by Ellana’s bitterness.  
“I asked her to consider Anaris’ offer to avoid the war and countless deaths it would bring. I spoke about my own sacrifice to her, trying to make her see reason. She refused.” Ellana said. “She told me that it is her right to choose for all of us.”  
Fen’Harel drew a deep breath. He understood Ellana’s anger and disappointment, but she was still in her forties, and Fen’Harel had the advantage of much longer lifespan and different cultural background. In Dalish way of thinking, Siona’s refusal had been unacceptable because she wasn’t a child to Ellana, but a young woman soon to be ready to receive her vallaslin. But in Fen’Harel’s eyes, she was a child who had fled a situation she could not understand or solve. He didn’t think her selfish, no more than Fen’Harel had been when he was young, and the memory of her gift still ached in Fen’Harel’s heart.  
“I do not think the same way.” he said. “But debating this issue is useless. What do you suggest?”  
“I have been reading the book. Andruil’s memoirs.” Ellana pointed at the book on the table. “You were friends with Forgotten Ones. Without Elgar’nan, there is no need to fight. You remember Mythal’s story about First Schism? She said that Geldauran did not want to bow to Elgar’nan’s authority, because she believed gods were made with deeds, not by birth.”  
“Yes.” Fen’Harel said carefully. “It was a topic we often discussed when I first grew unhappy with the society of Elvhenan.”  
“You saw what divine rule and worshipping gods caused in Elvhenan, and what it has caused here. I think us all – us and the Forgotten Ones both – should give up our titles. Lead, but not as gods, rather as we are. Talented mages, nothing more. No worshippers. No temples. There would be no reason to fight with humans over the matters of religion. We could be a democracy based on skill and talent, like Dalish clans are. A world you tried to create with your rebellion, but we could work together to achieve it.”, Ellana said.  
Fen’Harel’s eyes widened.   
“Mythal would never agree to it.”, he said slowly. “She quietly supported my rebellion, but she will never forgive the Blight.”  
“Blight is a hideous thing, I agree on that, but there must be something left beyond it. Geldauran created it; she must be able to control it somehow. June said that darkspawn were once just workers created to do the slave labour for Forgotten Ones.”, Ellana replied. “Go to Geldauran and tell that we have sent Elgar’nan away. You were friends once; say that you imprisoned Elgar’nan again. They will believe you.”  
“They would.” Fen’Harel said.  
“They must have been open for negotiations since they sent the music box to Siona. Ask a representative to come here, so we can speak about it in the Chamber of Ruling and agree on details of peace agreement.”  
“What about Mythal?”, Fen’Harel asked, the countless possibilities of her vision flashing through his mind. He found himself strangely thrilled.   
“What about Mythal? I was Mythal, as you well remember. Without Elgar’nan, there is no Creator force to consider.” Ellana said calmly. “I will deal with Mythal.”  
“You could offer Ghilan’nain’s freedom to June if you need majority vote.” Fen’Harel suggested.  
“Thank you. I have a plan, but will keep your suggestion in mind.”

 

When Fen’Harel left, Ellana sent one of the older children to tell June she wanted to have a word, and she would be in the tower, holding the city afloat. She took Andruil’s book with her.  
Seeing emptiness on the place of Elgar’nan’s temple sat ill with her, but she ignored the feeling. Now was not the time to be wistful, or grieve. The weight of her own mistakes troubled her, but she tried to think it reasonably. When she had accepted Mythal’s offer, becoming her vessel, she had no idea what she would unleash to world. She had imagined Creators as just and benevolent entities, who were above such things as petty mistakes. The cutthroat games they played and the relationship dramas rivalling Orlesian theatre... She could not have been prepared for that, and both she and the People had paid for her ignorance. She owed her mistake, and she would not repeat it. Ellana had done it all to change the fate of her People; she could not let anything stop her now.

When she reached the tower and nodded to guards who let her pass, she didn’t have to wait for long before June arrived.   
“You have found a power source to keep Arlathan afloat?”, June asked.   
“Yes.”, Ellana said. “I will tell you, but first I need to know about Andruil’s spear. You crafted it. What it is capable of?”  
“It is a weapon rivalled only by Elgar’nan’s light.” June said reservedly. “I crafted it as an attempt of making something equal, a bride gift worth of Andruil, using the light of the stars. When it is thrown, it emits a terrible heat which destroys its target utterly. The only thing where I failed short is usage. It only can be used once, and it will kill anyone else except her trying to wield it.”  
“Has it been ever used?”  
“No.”, he said. “I was planning to tell Andruil how, but then... things happened, and I hid it from her. People fear it nonetheless.”  
“Andruil thinks that Geldauran is the hub of the spell creating the Blight.” Ellana said. “Is she right?”  
“You have to understand that I was originally a prisoner of war.”, June said slowly. “I don’t remember a life among the Forgotten Ones, or retain any feelings towards them. I only remember the parents of Andruil and Sylaise. I was their ward, and they raised me like their own child because Mythal told them to.”  
“I’m not doubting your loyalties, June. I’m just asking if you know.”  
“I don’t know, but I believe so. She is their great inventor, their leader. Nothing I have ever heard connects anyone else to Blight.”  
“If we used Andruil’s spear on Geldauran, would it end the Blight?” Ellana asked shrewdly. “Break Andruil and others free from her control?”  
June’s eyes flashed.   
“I understand, sister.” the God of Craft said. “I believe we can work with that. Now tell me, what did you have in mind?”

 

“I require your help.” June said to Falon’Din. “I tried to approach Mythal, but her sentinels said she is unavailable. Fen’Harel has left the city, undoubtedly to do something stupid, but my main concern is to keep us from crashing down.”  
“I have no intention to die grievously.” Falon’Din replied.   
“There is an alternative way to power my machine, but it isn’t nice.” June told as they walked along the quiet streets of Arlathan. “We could replace the missing orb with another divine spark, and my machine doesn’t care whether the spark is officially recognized or not. To keep Arlathan afloat, we have to sacrifice the least useful of us. I have summoned Fen’Harel’s little paramour to tower. I don’t know her strength, so I need your assistance. Two against one will suffice.”  
“I can’t say I would regret this loss.” Falon’Din remarked. June nodded to his sentinels guarding the tower as they passed. As instructed, they cast the spell of silence to encircle the tower as soon as June and Falon’Din had passed.

 

“No!” Falon’Din screamed as June and Ellana grabbed him, dragging him towards the great machine. “You can’t do this! You don’t even have a vallaslin to draw on.”  
“I do have one.” Ellana Lavellan said and Falon’Din saw the sunburst-shaped scar on her temple, healed but still raised. “My vallaslin decorates the face of every elf or human who suffered during the Elven Heresy Resolution. And you are still weak after your imprisonment, while my power is fresh and new.”  
“You promised me a favour, June.” Falon’Din fought desperately, understanding he was going to lose this. “I’m—“  
The God of Craft slammed Falon’Din’s head against the metal casing of the machine. God of Death’s eyes rolled and he slumped in their grip.   
“If he had time to say it, I would have been honor-bound to grant it.”, June said to Ellana. “Now, lift him on the third. The spikes go through his legs to collect blood. I will deal with his upper body.”  
Ellana grimaced, but did as she was told. They lifted Falon’Din’s unconscious body on June’s reworked machine and attached him into numerous conduits and tubes which fed on his power to keep Arlathan afloat. Ellana cut off Falon’Din’s black braid and stuffed it in her pocket.   
“I can handle the rest on my own. The readings are improving, and Falon’Din’s servants are so few that my sentinels can handle them.” June said, looking at his cube. “But you need to deal with Mythal. She will not forgive you for this.”  
“I know. I don’t expect her forgiveness.” Ellana said. “But Falon’Din would never have agreed to parlay with Forgotten Ones.”  
“You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better about this.” June said disinterestedly, watching the readings of his machine. “He locked himself behind eluvian to save one. But the orbs are secured, now. Neither Fen’Harel or Mythal can remove them.”  
“And you still are willing to give me the spear so I can kill Geldauran?”  
“Yes. But you will own me two favours. One for imprisoning and draining Falon’Din, and another for bringing you the spear.” June said, raising two fingers.   
“I know the price of my actions, brother.” Ellana said and left.   
“I’m not so certain of that.” June muttered and continued his work.

 

The morning dawned after a sleepless night, and Ellana Lavellan was ready. She had received a word from Fen’Harel that the Forgotten Ones were willing to parlay, and Anaris was travelling with him to meet the Creators in Chamber of Ruling.

Her steps were heavy when she climbed the stairs to Chamber of Ruling. She would do what her daughter wouldn’t. Ellana Lavellan would marry Anaris and then bring a thousand-year peace to Thedas. But their bond would only last the few necessary moments to become binding; then she would take Andruil’s spear and kill Geldauran, sacrificing her own life in the process. The Blight would be gone, but the ties still bound. The bond between gods was forever, June had warned her. Death did not break it.  
She wondered what death would feel like. Would it be like Tranquility? Or would it be a glorious thing like Elgar’nan had told her. Roaming free in the Beyond, free of memories and duty and past mistakes.

She sat down on Sylaise’s throne and waited, holding Falon’Din’s black braid in her hands.

 

Fen’Harel was first to arrive. Ellana looked at the man next to him; he was easy to recognize from the music box. It felt strange to lay eyes on a future husband. She felt terribly sorry for hurting Fen’Harel like this. But her own desires mattered little compared to peace. Her daughter had failed, but she would not.   
“Ellana.”, Fen’Harel said with quietly. “We need to have a word.”  
“A pleasure to meet you.” Anaris bowed. There was a smirk on his lips. “You are the newest addition to your pantheon?”  
“Yes. I’m Ellana of Clan Lavellan.”, she nodded. “The others will be here shortly. I think it would be better if you waited until everyone is here before telling the news. It’s only fair.”  
“Ellana, I-“, Fen’Harel began, and only then she noticed something was amiss. He rarely called her by name. He always called her vhenan.  
“Greetings, brother.” June nodded to Anaris as he passed the two men and walked to his own throne. Whether he had meant to refer towards Anaris, who was a son of Geldauran just like June, or Fen’Harel, was unclear. Ellana thought June probably preferred it that way. Somehow June always ended up with a winning side in every argument.

“Anaris.”, Mythal stopped at the door. Her eyes flamed with anger. “What are you doing here?”  
“This is my doing.” Ellana said in loud voice, projecting confidence she didn’t feel. “We are negotiating peace with Geldauran and her allies. There will be new era for Thedas and the pantheon. A new rule, where people have freedom to choose their own destinies. An Age without gods.”  
She still held Falon’Din’s braid in her hands, and she threw it at Mythal’s feet.   
“You will sit on your throne, follow the proceedings and do what you are told.” Ellana said firmly, ignoring Abelas’ glance which was burning through her. “Otherwise I will deliver more pieces of your son.”  
Seeing Mythal’s expression cut. She did not dare to turn to see the look on Abelas’ face. It was bad enough to know he was there.   
“Falon’Din.” Mythal breathed, lifting the braid. “What did you do to him? What did you do to my son?” her voice rose to scream. “He would never have agreed to this!”  
“Your son is serving a higher purpose”, Ellana said. “You will either submit to new rule or your last living child will die. These are your options.”  
“June? Fen’Harel?”, Mythal looked around. Her sentinels had bared weapons, forming a circle around her.   
“Sorry.”, June shrugged. “I want my wife back.”  
“I apologize for that.” Fen’Harel said, looking at black hair in Mythal’s hands. “I wasn’t aware of any plan concerning Falon’Din.”  
Mythal looked fiercely at them, and Ellana was sure she was going to attack, but Kallian whispered something in her ear, putting a hand on Mythal’s arm. With great effort, Mythal held her head up proudly and walked to her throne, sitting down.

“We may begin.” Ellana said, ignoring Mythal and her sentinels. She was pulling enough power from her unknowing Chantry devotees and victims to shield herself from every single sentinel, if needed. She felt bad for using them this way, but all this was for higher purpose.  
“Anaris.”, she said, watching the man. “I must begin by apologizing the brunt way my daughter treated your offer. It was partly her own childish stubbornness and partly Falon’Din’s influence. Both of them have been dealt with, and I wish you can overlook their rudeness. I understand Fen’Harel has told you everything about our goals?”  
“Not to me, personally, but Geldauran is very well versed in his plans.” Anaris replied. “We have decided to accept your offer, although I’m surprised how calmly you are taking this.”  
“I am no stranger to political alliances, or arranged marriages. The Dalish have somewhat similar tradition.” Ellana said simply. “I believe our bond will benefit all of Thedas. It is a necessity.”  
“Our bond?” Anaris raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you were planning for double wedding.”  
“A double wedding?” Ellana repeated, suddenly feeling very cold.  
“I’m very sorry, Ellana.” Fen’Harel said, looking grim and fatalistic. “I didn’t want to tell you it like this. Geldauran’s price for alliance was a bond between her and me. I agreed to do it, for the People.”

  
Mythal’s venomous laughter was only sound in the chamber.  



	51. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forty years after Elgar'nan left, Mythal finally has her baby. There is a wedding, coronation and a sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter and the end of series. A far nicer ending than the one I originally planned.

It was morning of his wedding day, and it was dark and cold. The sun was only a pale shimmer in the sky, weak and barely visible. Fen’Harel shuddered and wrapped his woollen cloak tightly around himself as he prepared to push open the doors of his temple.  
“Stop. We don’t want your flowers to fall off prematurely.” Ellana said firmly, stopping Fen’Harel.  
He stood obediently as her fingers started to secure the errant flower in his long, ginger hair.  
“You know you don’t have to do this, Ellana.” he said, feeling miserable.  
“We are not having this discussion now.” she replied, not interrupting her work.  
“If not now, when? Geldauran is waiting in the Boulevard of Joy.”, Fen’Harel demanded. “It’s been years since I saw you last! You can’t just appear at my wedding and act as a valet.”  
“I didn’t come for that.” Ellana replied seriously. “I came to report my findings. As I wrote to you, I wanted to find out why the weather has changed. June says that the length of a day has been growing shorter ever since we imprisoned Mythal, and if the process isn’t reversed soon, we all will be eating nugs and mushrooms in frozen sunless world forever.”  
“What did you find?”  
“Nothing.”, she shook her head. “Only obscure references to Blight darkening the sky. You must make Geldauran lift her spell. The plants below are dying, and the people are hungry and cold. They think that the darkness is elven curse, a vengeance for Elven Heresy Resolution, and they beg our forgiveness. My son’s clan says it is only a matter of time before their anxiety will spark into open hostility, again. Our victory in the war against shemlen Chantry will not hold them back forever.”  
Fen’Harel looked at Ellana, remembering a furious woman who had beheaded Leliana in the battlefield with her mages and the Dalish. The joint forces of Creators and Forgotten Ones had washed over the human armies like a tidal wave, destroying the shemlen nobility as surely as they had drowned the proud towers of Minrathous. The memory of their war did not make Fen’Harel proud, but sometimes it was necessary to sacrifice few to save many.

Today, he would be one of those few sacrifices. Fen’Harel had long ago reasoned it was all for the best. Ellana’s coup had given him the golden opportunity to start building his dream of an empire where people were rewarded according their talent, not their family or even race. It was something he had wanted to create with his first rebellion, but he had been too weak to change so many. But this time, Fen’Harel was not alone. He had his brothers and sisters from both sides of the pantheon, with exception of Mythal. The sheer bitterness of his oldest friend still stung, but Fen’Harel understood heartbreak. It was something he was too familiar with, as he looked at Ellana Lavellan and remembered what she had looked like with a hundred flowers woven in her hair.  
“It is no use, Solas.” she said gently, like she had guessed his thoughts. “Grieving something which is gone will not help us today.”  
“And you accused me for being grim and fatalistic.” he said, feeling his throat tightening. “But vhenan, I want you to know that-“  
“Shh.”, Ellana said, pressing her finger lightly on his lips. “Don’t make it worse. You deserve a chance to be happy. After the wedding is over, I will return to my son’s clan, and we will not meet again. It is better this way. You will make a fine emperor of Third Elvhenan, Fen’Harel.”  
“They should have named you the Goddess of Sacrifice.”, Fen’Harel told her sadly, and kissed her forehead with love which could not be spoken aloud.  
She closed her eyes, the defeat written clearly over her face.  
“It is time to go, Fen’Harel. You must not be late from your own wedding.”

 

Inside the sealed doors of Mythal’s temple, the All-Mother walked slowly forth and back in the room, pain twisting her features. Kallian Tabris, whose red hair had turned into silvery grey, looked at Melana who nodded sternly.  
“Enasal.”, she called, standing up with her walking stick. “I need you.”  
After a moment, the doors to birthing chamber opened, and Abelas walked in.  
“I’m going to see to defences of the temple.” Melana said to him. “The enemy will try to break in as soon as they find out our mistress is in labor.”  
“I need you to stay here with Mythal.” Kallian said. “I have a special assignment.”  
“What kind of special assignment?” Abelas’ yellow eyes narrowed.  
“A gift from one mother to another.” Kallian told him. “Nothing you need to be worried about.”  
“Kallian, you are seventy-eight.”, Abelas said.  
“While you are four thousand and something?” she asked innocently. “The only difference is that you are a bit less wrinkled, my love. Nobody will pay attention to old, harmless woman wandering around the city. Even if she happens to wander by the tower where they keep our lady’s son imprisoned.”  
“And then?”  
“She was always my chosen weapon, Enasal.” Mythal said not without compassion. “The instrument of my justice.”  
“It is far better than dying for a broken hip, a flu or something as embarrassing as old age.” Kallian told him firmly. Her expression softened as she saw the naked pain on his face.  
“No, Enasal. Don’t start crying now. We’ve both known this day would come eventually, and I’ve always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Almost forty years with you is a gift I never expected to have. I have been very happy.”  
“Happy locked inside a temple? In a darkening world? Our daughters haven’t ever seen the city outside, and the boys don’t remember anything of it.”, Abelas said bitterly.  
“We wouldn’t have had four children without the house arrest.” Kallian said softly, wiping the tears off his face. “You will show our children the world outside temple, all the things they have only dreamed of. When Elgar’nan comes, our lady will be freed, and everything will be different.”

She kissed her children and told them that she loved them. She kissed her Enasal, and tried to ignore the pricking feeling in her eyes when she tasted the salt on his lips. Her poor love. But she could not make herself immortal. What she could do was to buy freedom to her lady, her love and her children, and Kallian Tabris was going to do just that.  
After all, escaping from a prison was not a problem for someone who could walk through the air on lyrium legs. Their jailors’ antimagic field never noticed her going.

 

An old woman with a walking stick strolled slowly along the Boulevard of Joy. The People were gathered around the Chamber of Ruling, and she heard them cheering. She stopped for a moment to listen what they were talking about. Apparently there had been a bonding ceremony, and the coronation of newlyweds had just started. Fen’Harel had bonded Geldauran as a sign of unity between two factions, the pair becoming the emperor and empress of Third Elvhenan.  
“How splendid.” Kallian said with a comfy smile of an old woman. She was somewhat surprised that Fen’Harel had actually gone through with his third attempt of marriage, but maybe Geldauran had learned from her predecessor’s experience and made sure Fen’Harel couldn’t bail out at critical moment.

She did not linger, making her way towards the western tower. The hill where Elgar’nan’s temple had once stood was gone, replaced by a school. The marker said that Fen’Harel had built it fifteen years ago to educate all children of Arlathan in the knowledge of new age. Her old bones were hurting, and there was a bench under a tree. Sitting down to rest for a bit, Kallian put down her walking stick and looked around. There were few people hurrying towards the celebrations in city centre, but nobody was watching her.  
Like Mythal had instructed, Kallian broke her stick in two to release magic stored inside it. The goddess’ plea for help escaped into grey sky like a wisp taking a flight, seeking Mythal’s lover. Kallian watched it go. She only regretted that she would not be here to see the inevitable retribution. Maybe she could persuade Falon’Din to tell her all about it later.

Kallian had always known that sentinels were a class apart and above of any other type of warrior, but the training they gave to ordinary guards these days was downright ridiculous. Enasal would have scowled at them. She wished that she could have seen that scowl. At least once more.  
It was almost embarrassing to beat three grown men with a short stick. She might be a lyrium warrior and Mythal’s chosen weapon, but she was seventy-eight years old and had broken her spine forty years ago. When they told her story later, Kallian hoped the fight would be much grander. Something like fighting Andruil in her dragon form. That was a good story.

Her hips were aching by the time she reached the top of the tower. Kallian Tabris sighed, steeled herself and ignited the lyrium in lower part of her body. Creators, this was going to make a number on her bad hip. But like she had said, a gift from one mother to another. She appraised the most likely location in a metal box shaped like rectangle and swung her leg high. Her lyrium-infused foot vanished partially inside the box, kicking Falon’Din on the head to wake him up. There was a faint, muffled sound, barely weak enough to hear.  
“God of Death.”, she said on loud voice. ”Mythal sends her regards, and a gift of life. Grab it while you can.”  
Then she kicked again, this time aiming for his hand. And something caught her. Kallian Tabris felt a starving, desperate magic latching on her leg, holding her with desperation, and she screamed as the spell started pulling her life force to feed the spell’s owner. But her dying scream was triumphant declaration of justice served.

 

June’s machine stopped abruptly as the box broke and the pieces of metal shattered around the room. Falon’Din sat up, ripping off the needles and spikes impaling his body, and looked at the pile of ashes on the floor. In his hunger, he had burned through Mythal’s servant so completely that not even a skeleton remained.  
“Thank you.” he said. “I will see to you later. But now I have a score to settle.”  
He swung his legs on the floor, healing himself, and descended the stairs. His unknown helper had kindly left three still warm corpses on the tower exit, and Falon’Din siphoned their fresh deaths to strengthen himself. As he raised their corpses to serve him, he looked up. Falon’Din was taken aback by grey, darkening sky. It had not looked like that the last time he had seen it.  
There was something in his pocket. Falon’Din pulled out a small packet wrapped in silk paper. Yes. He had a happy family event scheduled. And there were some people who _needed_ to die.

 

\--

 

She felt the ground shaking under her feet, and she would have fallen, if Abelas hadn’t caught her. Mythal knew what it meant; Kallian had succeeded and Falon’Din was free. Tears of relief ran along her face. But the freedom had been bought with a cost.  
“I’m sorry, old friend.” she said, turning to grieving Abelas. “I know you didn’t want it end to like this.”  
Before he could answer, the pain crushed her again, and Mythal’s tears changed from joy to helpless cry.  
“Their soldiers are approaching the gates. Melana says she needs you, father.” a breathless red-haired boy announced. His little face was flushed from running, and Mythal could see how hard he fought to keep his fear from showing.  
Abelas looked at Mythal, wordlessly asking for permission.  
“Go.”, Mythal commanded, barely getting the words out before pain took a hold on her again. “Buy me time. As much as you can give.”

It was hard to tell the passing of time. The window in her chambers faced the garden, but there was nothing but a tree with dead leaves. It had died after the sun stopped shining, like everything else in Mythal’s garden. The grey shadows never changed.  
She could heard the sounds of battle from the gates, and the magic of the temple roared like a wounded animal. Alone in her chambers, Mythal let herself ask for a first time what she would do if they got through. The answer was that she did not know. All she did know that Fen’Harel and Ellana were making a terrible mistake putting their trust to Geldauran. The Blight was a poisoned chalice, a double-bladed sword. There was no way to deal with it or those affected by it safely. Only madness and despair waited along that road. Mythal knew this with certainty of one who had died in the hands of her own, tainted son.  
She remembered Siona’s tale about Geldauran’s tainted necklace and how they had offered Dirthamen a choice to accept taint or be bound to it. Mythal placed her hands over her stomach, which was stone hard, and promised herself that she would keep her baby safe. Somehow, she would keep him safe for a while longer.

But what had started with soft kisses and her sun’s hands trailing a path of worship, was rapidly reaching the inevitable conclusion, whether Mythal wanted it or not. She had never thought it would be like this. A death flared in her vision, the second sentinel dying for her today, and she was bleeding alone in her chambers, crying and hurting and trying to wonder if she should try to push the dresser to block the door. As if a dresser would stop those coming through it.  
She regretted everything. She regretted trusting Dirthamen too much, and Falon’Din too little. She regretted not making Fen’Harel understand in time, and she regretted dying, even though Mythal knew she could not have stopped it from happening. It had taken too much to claw her way through the Ages and reach Flemeth. Death had changed her, twisted her to something which was different than a woman she had been once, and she did not know how to get back again. Once betrayed, she had seen everything through the same lens which had coloured her view of the world, and Mythal could not find the same forgiveness in her heart which she had once held. Justice no longer meant mercy, or even justice. Her spirit had twisted too close to vengeance, and it consumed everything. Ellana as her vessel, the child Elgar’nan loved, even her children. If she had been different, would June still have betrayed her to save Andruil? Or Fen’Harel, her old friend? A boy she had raised to pantheon for his cleverness and the willingness to do what was right?  
Trying to fight her way through the pain, Mythal admitted herself that once June would have asked justice for Andruil. She could have given her fair judgement, not a ploy for revenge or a plot for a political gain. But that was what she had been Ages ago, and now those whom she had loved were going to take her baby. Another flash of crimson coloured her view, and Mythal curled into a ball on the floor, crying soundlessly for her third dead sentinel and for her hurts.

She heard a creak when the door to garden opened in the other end of her chamber. The last brown leaves from her dead tree were falling down, and there was sun shining. One of her enemies had gotten past her sentinels somehow, maybe over the roof. She tried to get up, to fight, but the merciless pain took over her again. Unable to stand up, Mythal bit her lip to stay quiet. She tasted the metal as her skin broke, but she was the Great Protector, and she would not fail her son. As soon as the pain let her move, she crawled under the bed to hide, leaving a bloody trail on floor.

The heavy steps of an armoured warrior walked across the floor. They came closer, until they stopped, and to her horror, Mythal saw the red line of blood leading to her hiding place and black armoured boots standing next to it. Trying to ignore the familiar tightening around her stomach, she gathered her mana, ready to attack. A disintegration, or a barrier? Disintegration. A barrier would not hold long enough, so it had to be disintegration--  
A hand reached for her, seeking, and Mythal slammed a fireball against her assailant. There was no time for disintegration, and she couldn’t focus. It hurt too badly, and she cried out, curling into a ball. Her magic flared, dying down, and she started to weep hysterically as she felt her attacker dispel. Suddenly the whole bed was hoisted up in the air by magic, and dropped down few feet to left.

“Fenedhis lasa, Mythal.” Elgar’nan said, kneeling to pick her up. “Where are your attendants? Your sentinels? Your midwives?”  
”I’m sorry, vhenan.” she said, crying for sheer relief now. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come seeking for you, and for twisting, and everything. Please, don’t let them take away Dirthamen.”  
“I don’t know whom you are referring to, but of course not.” Elgar’nan said. “This is outrageous. You shouldn’t be alone, hiding under a bed like a da’len and bleeding all over the floor. Where is Abelas?”  
“At the gates, trying to fend off the Forgotten Ones and Creators.” Mythal said, hanging on his neck with desperation when he tried to put her down on the bed. She could feel the pain coming again, and it hurt worse. “Don’t go away. Please. You have to help me.”  
“You know that midwifery isn’t exactly my best talent.” Elgar’nan pointed out. “I’m much better at making people leave this world than bringing them into it.”  
“I don’t care.” Mythal replied, her stomach tightening again. “You have to twist me back.”  
“Twist you back?” Elgar’nan stopped in the middle of motion.  
“Yes. Twist me back, like I was before I died.” Mythal said, hissing with pain. “Please, my sun. Help me. I can’t do it myself, and I know you remember what I was.”  
For once, his face was serious. Then Elgar’nan’s gaze softened and he said:  
“Of course I’ll help you. But you have to let go of my neck. Even I can’t deliver the baby, twist your spirit and ward the door if you keep trying to strangle me.”  
“I’m sorely disappointed, ma lath. I thought you could do anything.” Mythal replied, closing her eyes and bracing herself as he laid her down on the bed.  
Elgar’nan chuckled and threw his gauntlets on the floor. He was apparently still hopeless with keeping order. It was comforting thought.  
“It’s good to know you have such faith in my talents.”, he said and pressed his warm hands against her temples, kissing her as his magic took a hold on her spirit and started to burn through it. She put her arms around his neck, trying to anchor herself in the red haze taking over her mind. Yet another loss flashed through, but soon all was lost and Mythal remembered no more.

“Mythal.”, someone called her, and she tried to answer, but she couldn’t.  
“Mythal.”, the voice demanded. He was familiar, and she loved him. And there was another sound, a smaller voice, which cried.  
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”, she whispered.  
“You have to.” Elgar’nan said, cradling her. “It’s over, love. It’s over.”  
“My people are dying.” she said, unable to open her eyes yet she wanted to. She was so tired. “Almost all of them have fallen. Only a few still remain.”  
She was sinking into dreamless sleep again, but Elgar’nan didn’t let her.  
“Mythal. Don’t fall asleep now.” he said, and it was a command. His throne room voice. “You can’t fall asleep now. You aren’t dying on me. Not again.”  
“Dirthamen?” she asked, forcing herself to open her eyes.  
“He is lovely.” Elgar’nan said. His tone was apologetic. “I’m afraid I’m not a good midwife. You are still bleeding, and it doesn’t stop.”  
“Blame the Forgotten Ones. And the pantheon. There was a coup, and I’ve been imprisoned.” she advised weakly. “I should have come with you when you asked.”  
He didn’t reply, but gave Dirthamen to her arms. She held the baby for a moment, touching his familiar soul and smiling quietly as she sensed the still unformed mind bending towards her like a flower seeking light.  
“You should take the baby and go now. Before they get through.” Mythal finally said, closing her eyes. It would be better this way. She would simply drift away, whole and not hurting anymore.  
“No.”, he said.  
“But you have to.” she protested, shock coursing through her veins. “They are almost here. I have only four sentinels left.”  
“I could take you with us.” Elgar’nan said, holding her hands. “But Vhen’alas is not a place for pantheon. The children would not be gods. Respected, yes, honoured, but not gods. They would be like Asha’nan’len and Senris.”  
“Ash who?” Mythal asked weakly.  
“Siona.” Elgar’nan answered. “As my heir, she needed a new name.”  
“You have terrible taste in names. First a tragic Dalish poem, and then a daughter of vengeance.” she smiled tiredly. “It is good to know some things haven’t changed.”  
“Would you come, knowing the terms?” he asked seriously.  
“I would.” Mythal whispered. “Nothing good came from having a pantheon except death and hurts. And I missed you.”  
“I believe you.” he said.  
“It’s hard not to believe someone after you just rummaged through her mind to twist her back.”  
“There is that.” Elgar’nan admitted with a soft smile. He secured Dirthamen into crook of her arm and ripped the curtain down from the wall to wrap around them.  
“Now listen to me, love. Do you have any sentinels who are any good with healing?”  
“Melana. But she’s wounded. And I need Abelas. He has children to care for. Eliel is still holding on, but Delina is dying.” Mythal replied, the exhaustion seeping over her. She was feeling cold. “All others are already dead.”  
“You have to hold on.” Elgar’nan said, standing up. “I will deal with this rebellion and come back to you. And if you dare to die on me again, I will never forgive you.”  
He picked up his gauntlets from the floor, and Mythal saw a flare of red magic forming a barrier over the door as a figure in black armor stepped through it. It was stronger than she remembered, akin to something she had seen when the sky had been cold and dark much like now... She closed her eyes, and drifted asleep. She was so very tired of plotting vengeance. Let him to be the reckoning to shake the heavens instead of her. It was far better this way.

\--

The wedding presents were still laid out on the table in the Chamber of Ruling, even though the seats were now abandoned. Falon’Din looked around in the room. It was vastly different now. His own throne had been replaced by ugly, crude structure which had to be Daernthal’s, and Mythal’s seat was badly damaged, looking more like pile of marble. The place where Elgar’nan’s throne had stood was no more. There was a new throne in its place, decorated with symbols of Geldauran.  
It was all expected, but there was one thing about circle of thrones which disturbed Falon’Din quite a lot. Dirthamen’s place was intact. As an only remaining throne belonging to someone in his birth family, it looked almost polished. Ready to use. Falon’Din didn’t like it. He remembered Siona’s story about Dirthamen’s death, and he would not let his brother drink from the poisoned cup of Blight ever again.  
There was one item on the table which drew his attention. Falon’Din studied a shining spear, following the script of runes with a careful brush of fingers. Yes. It was just like he remembered. Why Andruil’s spear was among Geldauran’s presents, or why Geldauran had married Fen’Harel like the nervous guards of the chamber had prattled before dying, Falon’Din didn’t know. Probably a plot. But Falon’Din was a god of Death and Fortune, and he knew a lucky turn when he saw one. Taking the spear with him, he left the Chamber of Ruling and headed towards Mythal’s temple.

The place was littered with corpses and fresh deaths. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, and reminded Falon’Din eerily of his mother’s murder. It was a memory he didn’t like to recall. He remembered how Dirthamen had dodged all his questions, listening at his sorrow and rage and going through all the right notions, but not truly feeling anything. Blight did that to people. It made them numb.

The doors were ajar, the enchantments broken by force, and Falon’Din walked slowly forwards. He picked up the souls of dead, feeling his power return with each one. The temple was eerily silent, but as he passed the vestibule, he started to hear sounds of battle from further within. God of Death stopped to consider his options. He had Andruil’s spear, the unstoppable weapon. Should he use it to kill June, or Ellana Lavellan? It was so hard to choose.

\--

“Stop it, you idiots!” Ellana Lavellan shouted furiously. “Stop! You can’t kill them all!”  
Geldauran ignored her, cutting down yet another of Mythal’s sentinels and kicking the corpse aside before she vanished through a door to right.  
“You can’t keep switching sides, sister.” Daernthal advised her. “You were the one who sacrificed Falon’Din to hold the city afloat. June says he is no longer there. Mythal is the only one we can afford to lose. How is it any different than putting Falon’Din there?”  
“She had a perfect timing for her rebellion. A wedding, coronation. Putting an end to the old Age on the same day is poetic.” Anaris mused before the two Forgotten Ones took the second door on left.  
“Fen’Harel.” Ellana turned to her former lover. “It’s your wife. Do something!”  
Not waiting for his answer, she started to run after Geldauran. Abelas and Kallian were here somewhere. She would not let them be massacred.

Geldauran had reached an open courtyard leading to Mythal’s inner sanctum. There were three sentinels standing in front of an ornate door, and Ellana recognized Abelas’ tall form in the middle. He had not changed at all in forty years. She had not seen Abelas after the fateful meeting in the Chamber of Ruling when she had thrown Falon’Din’s braid to Mythal and told her to obey. Melana and Eliel were with him, three of them blocking the door. Melana was bleeding, but holding her weapon with grim determination.  
“Stop!” Ellana screamed as Geldauran took a step closer to sentinels. “Stop it, Geldauran.”  
The empress of Third Elvhenan turned to look at her.  
“Are you having second thoughts, sister?” she asked sweetly. “It was your genius idea to empower the city with divine essence.”  
“Not like this.” Ellana said. “I did it clean. You have littered the temple with dead bodies.”  
“Clean?”, Geldauran laughed brightly. “You lured Falon’Din to his doom and you call it clean because there were no other casualties? So lies are clean, while death is not? What a conflicted little girl you are.”  
“I did all this to save the People from war and death.” Ellana’s temper flared. “You will not mock my sacrifices. I gave you this. I believed you were right. You will treat it with respect.”  
Geldauran still had the bridal flowers in her hair, those stupid flowers symbolizing the bond between her and the man Ellana loved, but her hands and her dress were stained with blood.  
“Or else?” Geldauran queried. “You are one of my brethren, yes, but you are not my equal. Not like my new husband. It’s best if you leave now and nurse your regrets somewhere else. The city needs my immediate attention.”  
“Stand aside. Please.” Ellana looked at Abelas, feeling desperate.  
“My daughter would not have asked such a thing.” he replied coldly. Turning his attention to Geldauran, he raised his weapon.  
“You chose your fate.” Geldauran said, and her magic rose like a black tidal wave.  
Ellana paled. She had seen Geldauran on the field. Abelas, as good he was, was still a mortal. He had no chance at all. A black, shimmering ball of darkness was appearing on Geldauran’s palm. Taint, her creation, following the empress’ every whim and command like a living organism.  
She saw Abelas’ death shining on Geldauran’s hand, and it was something she could not sacrifice. Not this one.  
“No!” Ellana shouted, and called upon Sylaise’s fire, sinking the blade of her staff into Geldauran’s back.

She was a rift mage, not an arcane warrior. Geldauran was not content to keep her distance and let Ellana twist the Fade to imprison her. The Forgotten One was far too shrewd and experienced for that, and she reacted immediately, knocking Ellana down with magic. Her staff fell down, and Geldauran picked it up, striding across the floor to her. All air escaped from her lungs as Geldauran stamped her foot on Ellana’s throat, looking at her with dark eyes filled with fury.  
Ellana could see the droplets of blood running down on Geldauran’s pale yellow gown, and they were black. Tainted.  
“A betrayer is never to be trusted.” Geldauran hissed, the Blight bubbling on her palm. “But Fen’Harel vouched for you. No matter. You are not the first Creator I taught to obey.”

She raised Ellana’s bladed staff, slicing through her finery and cutting her open from chest to navel. The blade was so sharp that the pain hardly registered in Ellana’s mind; she only felt warmth of blood starting to well. And then Geldauran turned her hand slowly, carefully, letting the taint fall into gaping wound. It fell on Ellana’s chest, making a dull sound, and she felt something alien crawling inside her. The blight spread through her veins instantly, feeling like a thousand little insects wagging their feet. Spiders. She had always hated spiders, and now she could not get them out.

She started to scream, and Geldauran smiled. But suddenly an armoured hand grabbed the empress, and Ellana saw a black figure standing behind Geldauran. Elgar’nan locked his arm around Geldauran’s throat, holding her close, and broke her neck with a clean snap.  
“Good riddance.” God of Vengeance said, letting the body fall on the ground.

And of course, that was the moment when Fen’Harel finally arrived.

\--

 

“Attend your mistress.” Elgar’nan said to Melana. ”Do what you can to stop the bleeding. We are leaving as soon as you are finished with her.”  
Melana nodded and started to limp towards the inner chamber, supported by Eliel.  
“As for you.” Elgar’nan addressed Abelas. “My daughter made a special request for you and your children. If you choose to go, it is one-way trip. Only those sworn into my service are allowed to leave.”  
“I will not leave Mythal.” Abelas said.  
“It is good to know not all loyalties are so cheaply sold.” Elgar’nan noted. “But your mistress has chosen to come with me. She is as she was.”  
The words made no sense to Ellana, who barely understood what was happening, but Abelas nodded like he knew what Elgar’nan was talking about. Fen’Harel was cradling her, trying to close the wound, and she tried to push him away so he would not get tainted.  
“In that case, we will come, too.” Abelas decided. “I need a moment to gather my little ones.”  
“Don’t linger too long.”, Elgar’nan warned. “The sun is setting soon.”  
Abelas nodded. He looked at Ellana, and his face was once again etched with long lines of sorrow, but Abelas said nothing. He simply opened the door to inner sanctum and followed the footsteps of his sworn brother and sister.

“Did you steal my kill, father?” another voice demanded from opposite end of the courtyard. “The Dalish shadow was mine to kill. For vengeance.”  
Falon’Din. Ellana could feel the taint knitting her flesh back together, and as she looked, the wound was starting to close. There was only a thick black line slowly inching upwards from her navel.  
“No.”, Fen’Harel said, seeing what she saw.  
“There are far better options for vengeance than simply killing, Falon’Din.”, Elgar’nan scolded. “Listen and learn.”  
God of Vengeance turned to address Fen’Harel.  
“Since you are the emperor of Third Elvhenan, and it is your wedding day, I would like to give you a present. You can ask me to remove the taint from Ellana, or you can ask Falon’Din to resurrect your wife and empress. But we won’t do both.” Elgar’nan said calmly. “And before you even think of tricking us, I would like to draw your attention to weapon my son holds. Andruil’s spear.”  
Falon’Din laughed.  
“Oh, this is splendid. I agree.”  
“If I were you, I would choose quickly. I need open wound to work.” Elgar’nan remarked.  
The look in Fen’Harel’s eyes was agonized.  
“Don’t.”, Ellana whispered, pushing herself up. “We’ve come too far and sacrificed too much to give up now. You need Geldauran and the alliance. It’s already happening, Fen’Harel. You’ve seen. The empire our People deserve.”  
Trying to sit up, but failing, she wiped the black blood from corner of her mouth and told Falon’Din:  
“Resurrect Geldauran.”  
“I’m afraid that father did not ask from you.” Falon’Din said lightly, walking past them. He held the spear with ease, smirking at Ellana.  
“I did not.” Elgar’nan confirmed.  
“There are two of you. But six of us, already inside this building.” Ellana said. “This is not the time for blackmail or forced choices.”  
“I have thought of that.” Elgar’nan smiled, and it was not a kind smile. “Like every wise ruler, I have made precautions. I have an heir, who will inherit everything if something happens to me.”  
“Everything?” Fen’Harel asked. It was a loaded question.  
“Everything.”, Elgar’nan agreed. “My kingdom, my property. My power. My divinity. And I doubt you want to see the Goddess of Vengeance. I certainly don’t. But yet again, it is your choice, Fen’Harel. Make it. I don’t have all day.”  
Falon’Din looked at his father.  
“That is why you resurrected her. When she died.” he said slowly.  
“It wasn’t why. It was how.” Elgar’nan disagreed. “Asha’nan’len, or Siona if you prefer, is a sweet, happy child, like a spirit of Love should be. She was shocked when she learned she was no longer elvhen, but I assured her it hardly matters. There are no gods in my kingdom. None except me.”  
Turning to Fen’Harel, Elgar’nan said:  
“Now, Fen’Harel. You choose or I will leave without giving you anything.”  
Fen’Harel looked agonized. He looked at Geldauran laying on the ground, and then at Ellana, then back at Geldauran again. The muscles on his jaw tightened, and Ellana felt when he drew a deep breath, all fight bleeding out from him.  
“It is a right choice.” she whispered. “I will hold no grudges.”  
Fen’Harel looked at her, his grey-blue eyes shining faintly in the darkening courtyard. The weak glow of the sun was almost gone.  
“It is the right choice.” he confirmed. Then he looked up and spoke to Elgar’nan. “Remove the taint.”

\--

Abelas herded a group of small children to courtyard, where the sun was shining on the mosaic floor. There were two redheaded boys, which Ellana thought had to be Soris and Junius, and two little girls she had never seen before. The younger of them was barely a toddler, and her sister didn’t look much older.  
“Where is mamae?” the older girl asked.  
A pain flashed on Abelas’ face.  
“Mamae has gone to Beyond.” he said. “She is not coming with us.”  
“I don’t want to go without mamae.” her lower lip started to tremble. She was too young to understand.  
“Neither do I, da’len. But she has taken a path which we can’t follow.” Abelas said sadly, pulling a small ball of rope from his pocket. He unwounded the ball for a bit, passing end to Soris, who pushed the rope through a metal ring attached to his belt and passed the end forwards to Junius, who repeated the same thing. One by one, all three children were secured to the rope while Abelas picked up the smallest one.  
“Why I never thought of that?” Fen’Harel muttered under his breath.

“If you still insist coming with Dirthamen, step through the sunlight.” Elgar’nan told Falon’Din, who didn’t look convinced. He was still holding Andruil’s spear in his hand.  
He poked the faint glow tentatively with the spear, and when nothing happened, Falon’Din shrugged and stepped into light. He disappeared, and there was nothing but speckles of dust dancing on the courtyard.  
Melana and Eliel followed. Eliel carried Mythal in his arms, and Ellana wasn’t sure if the woman was even conscious. She was hanging like a rag doll, deathly pale.  
Abelas waited for ten breaths, and then nodded to Soris, who bravely marched into sunlight. One by one, the children disappeared, orderly like little soldiers and secured with the rope.  
“Father. Wait.” Ellana said just when Abelas was going to step through. There had to be something she could say to make things right. He couldn't just leave, not like this.  
“No, Ellana.” Abelas replied gently yet firmly. He took his youngest child and vanished through the sun.

Elgar'nan lingered a moment longer. He held a baby in his arms. Ellana could see a tuft of black downy hair peeking from the blanket.  
“I was surprised that you finally chose right, Fen’Harel.” Elgar’nan remarked. “I hope you will find strength from all your choices in days to come. Your Third Elvhenan will reap the seeds you have planted. In good and in bad.”  
“What do you mean?” Ellana asked sharply.  
Elgar’nan smiled at them, a terrible sovereign smile.  
“I thought you would have understood by now that some stories of our religion are very real. They call me Eldest of Sun, the One Who Overthrew His Father. These titles should be taken literally.”  
“You mean the shining thing you brought from the Void.” Fen’Harel said slowly.  
“I hope you enjoy the last sunset on Thedas. It’s the most exquisite act of revenge I have ever committed. Farewell, Fen’Harel. Ellana.”  
God of Vengeance nodded to them, and the faint glow of sunlight flew to his hand. For a moment, Fen’Harel saw Elgar’nan glowing like he had glowed on the night he left, a shining thing which hurt his eyes. And then the light exploded in hundred little sparkles, which fell down on the courtyard and died. There was no sign of Elgar’nan or Dirthamen.

Ellana stood up on trembling feet. They watched the sky, where the most beautiful sunset bloomed in shades of red, gold and purple. Elgar’nan had always had a flair for dramatic. The light was slowly fading, and a dusk settled on Thedas. The perpetual twilight was eerily familiar. Ellana had seen this happen every day ever since Elgar’nan and Siona left almost forty years ago, but before now, they had not understood why. The days had kept becoming shorter and shorter, but Ellana and June had thought it was caused by Blight and Geldauran. Not Elgar’nan.  
“It is barely past midday.” Fen’Harel remarked. “Wedding took one turn of an hourglass, and the coronation another. And now I’m a widower and emperor of a sunless land.”  
Ellana took his hand and squeezed it.  
“We will get through this somehow.” she said.  
“Yes.”, Fen’Harel said, interlocking his fingers with hers. “You changed my whole world. We can change it again. Together.”  
“Or we can just have this one.” Ellana said. “I can get used to eating nugs and mushrooms. And you have to learn to drink tea to keep you warm, vhenan.”  
“The things I do for you.” Fen’Harel shook his head with a smile and kissed her, while there was still light.

The last rays of sun painted them golden, and when the cold twilight fell, they found solace in each other's arms.

 


	52. Easter egg story 1: Siona's love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six hundred years after Siona left to unknown destination with her family, she returns to sunless Thedas. Trained as a special enforcer in service of God of Vengeance, her task is to steal baby Dirthamen and return him home safely. But although Siona, now adult and named Asha'nan'len, can handle darkspawn and Forgotten Ones fate throws on her way, she is less prepared for meeting a stubborn human mage with far more principles than common sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before I decided how Wrath would end, so there are some differences. In this worldstate:  
> * Fen'Harel is the Emperor of Third Elvhenan  
> * Ellana Lavellan married Anaris to promote peace  
> * Elgar'nan stole the sun and left with Siona and his servants  
> * Mythal is pregnant with Dirthamen, but he hasn't been born yet. (Six hundred years of being pregnant. Yuck)  
> * Mythal is under house arrest, because she is a political dissident to new rule  
> * Falon'Din was not imprisoned, because he decided to play along with Fen'Harel's ideas. So he walks free in Thedas.

1\. PROLOGUE

Elgar’nan sat on his throne and tapped his fingers on the armrest. Ring finger hit the carved bone first, then middle finger and finally index finger on the quick rhythm, only to start again. It was the only sound in utterly silent room.

There was a flash of light on the eluvian standing in far end of the chamber. The sentinels stirred, ready to step forwards, but Elgar’nan lifted the palm of his hand to tell them to wait. He watched with narrowed eyes as the light grew in the dark end of the chamber.  
Imshael was first to stumble through the mirror. The ancient demon almost fell when his foot got caught in the edge of carpet, but his odd song never failed.  
“With my Gs and we riding in a magnificent car  
And we rolling with the baddest chicks and you won't see a flaw  
Booty riding up so perfect, badder than my Audemars  
Gonna pound it up so perfect that can get until tomorrow”, Imshael sang off-tune, moving in strange way which made him look as graceful as a sack filled with turnips.  
“The way she crank it up.”, Xebenkeck yelled, following through the mirror.  
“Yeah!”, both demons declared.  
“The way she crank it up.”  
“Yeah!”  
“The way she crank it up.”  
Gaxkang stumbled into Elgar’nan’s temple and joined the chorus.  
“Yeah!”  
“The way she cranks it up!”  
“But where is she?”, Imshael looked around. “She needs to be here for the next verse.”  
The eluvian flashed again, and Elgar’nan’s daughter fell through it. Literally. He heard a thump when her head hit the floor. He would have been worried, if he wasn’t so angry. And worried.  
“Get out of my temple.”, he said to Forbidden Ones in threatening tone. “This party is over.”  
“O-oh.”, Gaxkang said. “An angry father staying up late and wearing a dressing robe. Let’s go, boys.”  
“Whatever.”, Imshael shrugged and they turned to return through the mirror.  
“She’s the only girl left in the world who can guarantee what you need tonight.”, the demons’ voices faded as Elgar’nan’s eluvian closed again.

She was still on the floor, laying there limply like a rag doll.  
“Get up and come here.”, Elgar’nan commanded.  
She stood up slowly, not putting weight on her left foot. As she slowly got closer to Elgar’nan’s throne and the circle illuminated by veilfire, he saw a bleeding laceration and multiple scrapes and bruises all over her face. Letting out a sharp breath of disappointment, he asked from his unruly child:  
“What did you do, Siona?”  
“I crashed a car.”, she replied sullenly.  
“What is a car?”, Elgar’nan’s mouth curled at distaste of foreign word.  
“It’s a closed metal cage with wheels. When you crank down a pedal, it goes forwards very fast. About as fast as a peregrine falcon diving down.”, she said reluctantly. “Maybe a bit faster.”  
The sentinels looked at each other, the distaste written clearly across their faces. There were far kinder ways to kill someone than put them inside a metal cage and hurl them towards certain death.  
“It was glorious.”, she said defiantly, looking Elgar’nan in the eye. “Until it crashed.”  
“Leave us.”, he said to sentinels.

“Are you talking about this box with wheels or about Tyrion?”, Elgar’nan asked as he was left alone with his daughter.  
She was swaying lightly from one side to other, drunk and bleeding over his floor.  
“What does it matter anyway, father?”, Siona asked with bitterness which was uncharacteristic of her. “You decide what’s right. I just live with the results.”  
“It’s the boy, then.”, Elgar’nan said. “Yes, I killed him. He deserved it.”  
“It’s my fault.”, she said, blinking tears from her eyes. “I should not have told you.”  
“I would have known.”, Elgar’nan told her gently. “It was inevitable.”  
“It wasn’t!”, her voice rose, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “He was not yours to kill! He was mine! You had no right, papae! You killed him and now I never know.”  
“Know what?” Elgar’nan pressed her, although he well knew what she meant. But she needed to get it out.  
“You know what I mean!” tears were running along her bloody face, now. “I don’t know why he did it! Did he ever love me at all? Was it all just a game to gain favour from you? Did I do something wrong? I failed him somehow. I must have. I did something wrong, and I wasn’t enough, and then he decided he needed those damned kossith whores more than he needed me. It was all my fault, and now Tyrion is dead, and I can’t ask anything. It’s my fault he’s dead. I failed him just like I failed you and Dirthamen, and he’s dead because of me.”  
She crumbled on her knees, weeping like her heart was broken. Which it was. Elgar’nan shook his head sadly. He rose up from his throne and sat down next to him on the cold stone floor, pulling her on his lap.  
“I hate you, father.” she told him fiercely, and at same time, she clung to his shoulders, hiding her face against his neck as she cried.  
“You may feel what you feel.” Elgar’nan said. “But it would not have been better if you had talked, no matter what your heart tells you. Nothing hurts more than love betrayed, little one, and no explanation could have made it right. “  
“You must know something, papae.” she begged with teary eyes. “He must have told you.”  
“Listen yourself, Siona.” he said gently, dodging the question. “You were betrayed, and now you ask what you did to cause him to do it. But it was his own choice. Did you hold a sword on his throat and tell him to lay with another woman or else? Did you threaten to kill him if he kept his promise to you? Did you tell him to ignore what was painful to you and continue seeking his own pleasure, no matter the cost?”  
“Of course I didn’t.”  
“How can you say, then, that I should not have killed him?” Elgar’nan asked, cradling her close. “Your Tyrion betrayed you. And conflicted as you are, I would not have let you kill him yourself or forgive him. In both cases, it would have hurt you even more in the end, and this way, you can always blame me.”  
She cried only harder.

\--

He sent her to fetch Dirthamen, thinking a change of scenery would do her good.

 

2\. THEDAS

”I can’t believe he didn’t come.” the woman said, her breath hitching in her throat. “He promised.”  
“I’m very sorry, my lady. But maybe this is for the best.”, the midwife said, supporting her charge as the servants cleaned the bloody rags, throwing them into fire which had been lighted to bring warmth in the cold night. She lowered her voice until it was merely a whisper. “There are darkspawn posted around the house, my lady. Waiting. Led by the Awakened.”  
“He would have killed them all.” the woman curled into a small ball. “He should come and kill them all. Oh, my sun, where are you?”  
She wept bitter tears, and the servants looked at each other, shaking their heads.  
“My lady, look at your son. He’s lovely, lovely baby.” the midwife tried.  
“He should have been a god. He was born a god. Not some ordinary boy in a forgotten house in the middle of the woods.” woman’s eyes flashed with anger.  
“Many women say things they don’t mean during the birth.” the midwife said in loud voice. “I’ve heard wives cursing their husbands in one breath and swearing love with next. You are simply tired, my lady.”  
“I’m not tired.” she said. “And my mind is not wandering. I mean what I say, and I know you heard me.”  
“You need to rest to recover from birth.” midwife said, sharing a pitying look with other servants. “Maybe you should sleep. Everything always looks brighter after good night’s sleep. We will not disturb you any further, my lady.”

The woman could not sleep. She sat awake in her bed, cradling her child. They had swaddled him in beige fabric, and the woman snorted with disgust. She reached under the mattress, pulling out a small packet wrapped in faded silk paper. She unwrapped it, revealing a green baby smock where little ravens danced on the hem and cuffs. She brushed her fingertips against the soft silk, trying to remember how long it had been since she had felt anything so nice.  
“This is your birth right, child.” she whispered as she threw the ugly beige swaddling bands away and fastened the tiny buttons made from emeralds. “You should take it. Take it and fly away on the wings of your ravens. Fear and Deceit are yours to command.”  
And then she waited.

She did not know how long it had been, because night and day were much the same. It was always dusk outside. But she was not surprised when she finally saw a window being opened, and a shadow climbed inside.  
“My sun?” she asked, with fragile hope in her voice.  
“No, All-Mother.”, a female voice answered softly. “He thought you didn’t want him to come. I’m a messenger on his behalf.”  
The messenger lit up a torch of veilfire, sitting down on the bed. She wore a black armor with familiar markings, which made the woman’s heart ache with longing.  
“Then tell him that I’m sorry. That I love him. I miss him, and he was right.” the woman said. “This world is beyond saving. It’s a terrible place, and I don’t want it. Tell him to come and save me. And you must save your brother.”  
She placed her baby on messenger’s arms.  
“Take him away, before they do. I tried to keep him safe as long as I could, but they want him.” the woman whispered fiercely.  
“I will not fail him this time.” the messenger promised, cradling the child close. She looked at little green smock and smiled at the sight.  
“I thought you wouldn’t care. Or remember. It’s been a long time.”  
“I have forgotten nothing, Siona.” the woman said. “And although the wardens of my prison think me as a broken, useless woman, I’m still Mythal. Tell your father that.”  
“I will.” Siona nodded. “But it is better if you tell it to him yourself. After you wake up and see the baby is gone, start screaming and blasting magic everywhere, cursing his name. Try to escape few times. Act difficult. Get yourself transferred into a bit more dramatic location. Maybe a ruined castle with a flaming moat, at least? You know how much papae appreciates a good set-up. He just can’t resist those.”  
“And then?” Mythal asked with fond amusement in her voice.  
“Well, then father storms in with an army of kossith and kills them all. You kiss and make up, and he drags you into his lair. He has been building a very nice one in the deep mountains of north, and I suspect he’s saving it for you. I expect I’ll be stuck with ruling his kingdom and raising the baby for few centuries while you reconcile.”  
They smiled at each other.  
“How much time you need for a head start?” Mythal asked.  
“Half a day should be enough.” Siona replied.  
“I will give you a full one.” Mythal said and pressed a kiss on baby’s forehead. “Now go.”  
She watched the woman tie her baby in a sling against her chest and open the window. Her empty arms ached, but this pain was a comfort, a promise of vengeance. Sighing, Mythal sank onto her pillows, wondering how long it would take before Elgar’nan came to rescue her. His messenger was Spirit of Love; she knew these things. Mythal’s lips curved into a smile, and she fell into sweet dreams for the first time since Fen’Harel had been crowned as the Emperor of Third Elvhenan.

 

3.

Asha’nan’len, as she had been called after she became an adult, decided she did not like the Third Elvhenan. She much preferred how the things were at home. Nobody would have dared to even imagine asking her the things she had to do here for the sake of her cover and Dirthamen’s safety. But Ashiri was not the lady of Wrath and Thunder. She was merely an unfortunate young widow with a new baby and no means to get by. It meant accepting certain hardships.

She still was not pleased that the hardships took a form of cocky young elf squeezing her breast in a kitchen of guard cabin. But the weather outside was atrocious, and Dirthamen needed warmth.  
“I can let you and your baby to stay here tonight. If you are a good girl and do me a favour.” the idiot said.  
Asha’nan’len considered a poker by the fire. She could kill him with a corkscrew equally well, but a useless woman murdering the captain of guard would raise questions. It would not do. Sighing inwardly with annoyance, she took a meek expression and said in panicky voice:  
“Please, master. Let me put little one down first. Just don’t throw us out. I beg you.”  
“Be quick about it.”, the man said. Asha’nan’len turned and put the baby in a basket where the birch bark was kept, gently brushing her fingers against the small chest. Her spell would nourish the little one, and give him sweet dreams. Because there were things children did not need to know.

As the captain pushed her down, Asha’nan’len speculated if the famed equality between the citizens of Third Elvhenan meant they all were hurrying idiots when it came to sex. Or maybe her previous lovers had paid special attention to pleasing her. Of course, they might have been deathly worried about getting hit by a well-aimed paternal lightning if she wasn’t happy. The idiot had pushed her skirts up and was rubbing his wet cock against her bare ass.  
“You are a naughty girl, I see. Not wearing underpants. I like it.”  
Asha’nan’len wanted to snort. No noblewoman of Vhen’alas would wear something so annoying. Besides, everyone knew that letting air circulate freely prevented knickers rash.  
“I’m not that kind of girl. My clothes… They were ruined when I bled after my baby.” she whispered, not being able to resist the lie. Maybe the idiot was one of those who became squeamish when a woman mentioned moon’s blood. One would not except a soldier being uncomfortable with blood, but some men made an artificial distinction with blood coming from woman’s womb and with the exact same fluid coming through her skin.  
“If you bleed on me, dirt elf, I will throw you both to wolves.” the captain snapped.  
Fenedhis. She had made a miscalculation. Now she would have to put up some actual effort. Oh, damn.  
“Please, my lord.” she wailed. “I will do anything. I swear I won’t bleed on you. Just be kind to me and my baby.”

His hands kept her imprisoned between him and the table, and the captain twisted his hips as he searched for her sweet spot. Asha’nan’len wasn’t sure if she liked that. If he tried to make her come, it would be about power, not sex, and Asha’nan’len was not raised to lose when it came to playing for power.  
But on the other hand, she considered as his fingers brushed against her bud, she would be gone tomorrow, and even if she had a bit of fun, there was no danger of having to do a repeat performance. She had to get through this anyway for the sake of her cover, and like Imshael said, it was too late to regret when you had someone’s cock inside your ass. She still thought Imshael fondly from time to time. After Asha’nan’len had came of age, she had hired a desire demon or ‘a choice spirit’ as Imshael preferred to be called, to It had been quite pleasant and very educational decade of her long life. Sex, manipulation and a bit more sex. Much more fun than this.

So she closed her eyes, letting herself revel in the feelings slowly waking inside her. She circled her hips to stimulate herself, giving him a good look of her wiggling ass. She knew it was the most perfect female ass in whole Thedas, so the idiot should consider himself lucky.  
“You like it.”, he said like it was some kind of surprise when she grew wet enough for the sloshing sound to be heard over the crackling of flames. Asha’nan’len didn’t get the comment. Yes, he might not have been the partner she would have chosen, but he had a thick cock, he was an elf, and it had been a while since she had gotten well fucked. Maybe the pleasant ache between her legs would prove a distraction against the depressing rain next morning.  
“Here.”, she said breathlessly, guiding his hand on her clit. “You make me feel so good, master; I can’t help myself. Please.”  
She couldn’t believe anyone would be so dump as to fall for that cliché, but apparently the soldiers in Third Elvhenan were not the best or brightest of the lot. It was good thing in several ways. They couldn’t put up much fight against Asha’nan’len’s army of kossith when inevitable war began, and maybe she could salvage something from this boring encounter after all.

A good player of the Game could turn the most hardships to her benefit, Asha’nan’len thought as she leaned over the table, her skirts hiked on her waist as the captain snapped his hips against her ass. He held her nether lips wide with one hand, as the other rubbed her bud, and the moan escaping Asha’nan’len’s lips was not entirely faked. Oh, this was good. She was starting to feel her muscles tense with a promise of sweet relief, when the kitchen door opened and a clueless shemlen mage walked in.  
“Oh!” the shemlen startled. “I’m... I didn’t.”  
Asha’nan’len let a blush flare on her cheeks, and she hid her face against the table, like she was embarrassed. Mostly she was angry, because the idiot had stopped just before she was going to get off.  
“Get out!” the captain roared, and she heard the raucous laughter of his soldiers from the other room. The door was slammed shut again, but the mood was gone, and it took only three thrusts before the captain spilled his seed inside her.

“You may stay here in the kitchen tonight, since you have earned your keep.” he said, slapping her bare ass as he tied the drawstring of his trousers. “But if you are a smart girl, don’t wander too far away from the fire. Some of my men are Shems, and they hanker for a taste of elvhen cunt.”  
Asha’nan’len was thoroughly frustrated, and the unsatisfied ache between her legs was making her cranky. She wanted to reply that if one of the shems would actually finish what he had started, she was happy to offer herself to be licked, but the widow Ashiri was supposed to be mortified for being fucked by a stranger while someone walked on them. So she looked at the floor, not meeting his gaze, and nodded before she hurried to pick up her baby.

 

4.

She was still on bad mood when she woke up. Her neck was stiff for sleeping on a bench without a pillow, and trying to wash her sticky thighs without soap was just useless. Finally she decided that it was highly unlikely anyone would pay attention to such a minor detail, and after she checked that nobody was watching, Asha’nan’len flicked her fingers and cleaned herself with a spell. She had to leave her bruised neck as it was: getting rid of lovebite might raise questions. Healers were an asset; she was not going to stay and heal cuts for soldiers of Third Elvhenan. And it was never a good idea to add more magic over an existing illusion spell; sometimes the magic started to unravel at worst possible moment. She did not want to find out Ashiri’s ordinary features and mouse-brown hair were suddenly replaced with her true face.

Dirthamen was awake when she lifted him up from the bark basket.  
“Good morning, little one.” she cooed, smiling at his perfect little face. Father would be pleased, and Falon’Din too. He looked just like she remembered him. “Did you have happy dreams in the Fade? “  
The elvhen babies born after the Veil did not need to be nursed, although Asha’nan’len knew many women did so regardless. The Elvhen were First Children, and with proper guidance, even the little ones could draw nourishment from the Fade. it did little in the matters of taste, but she would have to wait to re-introduce Dirthamen to different flavours after they got safely home. She wondered if he remembered anything from his previous life. Not now, surely, but maybe when he grew older. It would be interesting to see if he still liked grapes and hated pineapple.  
Reinforcing the protective barriers around the baby – she knew everything about growing up too quickly and was not going to risk it - , Asha’nan’len tied the sling around herself, secured the baby against her chest and took their meagre belongings. Her sack was filled with a few rags to serve as diapers, two small apples, three coppers and a short pocket knife. She kept her armor and weapons stashed in between, secured like an orb, because they would have drawn too much unwanted attention.

It was raining again when she stood on the cabin stairs and stepped outside. Annoyed, she sighed and pulled the collar of her cloak higher to shield baby from the rain. She had been in Thedas for three weeks and she already missed the sunshine grievously. The climate here was even worse than in Sunless Lands. There it had at least snowed, not rained.  
“Hello.”, an embarrassed voice said carefully from the shed. The shemlen mage from yesterday was standing there.  
“What do you want?” she asked reservedly.  
“I’m... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, but the soldiers said I could warm in front of fire after I healed few cuts.” the man said.  
“They knew very well what was going on.” Asha’nan’len said, letting the bitterness sneak in. “Making you walk in was probably their idea of fun. Not a good trade for one night’s shelter.”  
The man looked harmless enough. He was definitely not an arcane warrior. Maybe a scholar.  
“Yes.”, he said. “I swear I don’t mean to harass you or anything, but I want to make up what happened. I know a spell to keep the rain off, and if we are going to same direction, I could extend it to you so your little one won’t get wet.”  
“It’s a kind sentiment. I’m going to north.” she said carefully. Her real goal was to go to Nevarra and pick up Falon’Din, and find a ship, but since they were in Orlais, north was a natural direction to go. If Fereldan had been barbaric six hundred years ago when she had been there with father’s sentinels, she did not want to know how bad it was now.  
“I’m going north too. I grew up in Serault, and I thought to visit my mother.” the man brightened, looking a bit less like sad scarecrow. “My name is Sulan.”  
Asha’nan’len considered. She doubted he would be much use in a fight, but she was more than capable of killing anything which came on her way. If such encounter happened, it would be good if someone could hold the baby. And she was not going to let anyone to get a good look on Dirthamen anyway, so the people they passed would think them as seth’lin, a thin-blood family trying to make their way to north was a good cover. Those looking for her would never think to search for a shemlen man. Also, his nominal presence could spare her from poor trades like yesterday’s deal. Not from all of them, probably, but at least some.  
“I’m called Ashiri.” she said. “And I would prefer to be far from here when the soldiers wake up.”  
“I understand.” Sulan nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

It didn’t take long to realize that she had gotten herself a ragtag scholar who was a chatterbox.  
His topic of interest were the forbidden cults of the Creators. Asha’nan’len had long suspected that the Fate just loved sarcasm, and this experience only strengthened her theory. She couldn’t have been saddled with a shemlen trying to breed new species of a cow who could exist on deep mushrooms? Did the shemlen even have cows these days? She had understood that majority of Thedas’ beef cattle consisted of nugs since the sun had stopped shining. Nugs ate everything.  
“I imagine your research is not very popular these days.” she remarked.  
“Yes, but at least it isn’t illegal.” he said cheerily. “By the grace of our Emperor, anyone can research anything he wants. On his own risk, naturally, but like I always tell my mother, it could have been far worse.”  
“That is surprisingly shrewd sentiment.” Asha’nan’len noted. Indeed, he could have gotten himself killed for making bad guesses on religion. The worship of Creators might not legally exist on Thedas, but gods were above such a petty things as laws.  
“Do you know much about your Creators?” Sulan asked eagerly.  
“I have heard a few stories.” Asha’nan’len said. Senris was going to howl with laughter when she told him this part. It was obvious that their travelling companion was going to enlighten poor and uneducated Ashiri with his superior knowledge. She looked at Dirthamen who closed his eyes with a small sigh, clearly preparing to sleep. It was just like him to figure out a convenient way to escape a lecture.

Sulan was reciting the once-popular slander theory of Falon’Din and Dirthamen’s incestuous relationship, and Asha’nan’len held her hands lightly on Dirthamen’s tiny ears, marvelling at the softness of his skin. He was a good baby. Father claimed that she had been a terrible, weepy baby who started to howl the moment he tried to give her to someone else, but Asha’nan’len was sure he was exaggerating. Even though Senris claimed the same thing.  
Actually, Senris said that only reason why Elgar’nan favoured her over his other children was that she was imprinted on him like a baby duck and vice versa. Eldest of Sun was so used to having her clinging to hem of his robes that he barely noticed it anymore. Asha’nan’len had pointed out that it had been almost two hundred years since she had done clinging of any sort.  
Breaking up with her first suitor five years ago didn’t count. It had been a special case, and under those circumstances, she thought it completely natural that she had appeared to Elgar’nan’s temple hauling a trunk behind her. They had the ugly blanket and ice cream at ready, and papae had been very understanding when she bawled against his shoulder. He agreed that it wasn’t fair at all to double-deal in an exclusive relationship, and finding it out by walking in a wrong room when she was doing an undercover mission in a kossith bordello must have been terrible. She had found particularly offensive that her suitor’s kink was impregnating them, since Tyrion knew she couldn’t.  
After Asha’nan’len calmed down, papae had taken a little walk in the city. Venial told her later that they had to scrape Tyrion’s remains off the walls with a spoon. Although Asha’nan’len appreciated Elgar’nan’s methods of solving the problem of an unsatisfactory suitor, paternal intervention had dampened her love life considerably. Nobody seemed to be brave enough to test their luck with her, and now she was reduced to shagging random people at work.  
Living under her father’s roof again didn’t help at all to improve her chances. The sentinels had known her since she was a baby in swaddling clothes, and they wholly enjoyed treating her with infuriating freedom given only to old family retainers, stubbornly calling her Siona. Senris was the worst, but Venial, Llowyn and Olaus were nearly as bad. They told her lies on how she had supposedly had made sand cakes in the Chamber of Ruling during Creators’ meeting and other cutesy things. She didn’t believe a single word of what they said.

She had a lingering suspicion that sending her on the mission to pick up her brother was father’s plot to get her out of the house. She was good at her job, naturally, but he could have sent someone else. Who had more experience with babies. Senris, for example, would have been ideal. Asha’nan’len knew the technical details of caring for them, because one could never know what the next infiltrating job would require, but she avoided babies as a general rule. It was Tyrion’s fault. Stupid Tyrion. But Dirthamen’s rebirth was _her_ fault, in several ways, so she felt morally obligated to bring him home. And after seeing the sorry state of Thedas, she wouldn’t leave a rat to live there. Much less her brother. Even though if he was a baby. He just couldn’t help it.  
She sighed and patted Dirthamen’s head as he cried. She would have cried too, if she had to listen Sulan’s mad theories about her personal relationships.  
“I have heard that the Dalish once believed that Andruil, June and Sylaise were siblings, and Ghilan’nain was Andruil’s paramour instead of her daughter.” she remarked to steer Sulan away from the topic of her brothers. It worked like a wonder.

 

5.

For first week, everything went suspiciously well. The small road Asha’nan’len had chosen dodged the known settlements of mindless ones. She could deal with awakened darkspawn, but Forgotten Ones’ mindless slaves harboured a mistaken idea of her being a god. They were attuned to song of her magic, and running away from a group of darkspawn was acceptable in terms of cover identity only during Blight. Since the Blights had ended after the peace treaty six hundred years ago, and the awakened darkspawn were breaching into politics, their unfortunate misconception of her status could prove to be extremely problematic issue to explain to innocent bystanders. Luckily the Executors had done a solid job on keeping eye on Thedas. Their information didn’t fail her until on ninth day towards north.

Her wards binged in the middle of the night, ripping her out from the Fade. She sat up so quickly that Dirthamen, who slept tucked in the crook of her arm, woke up and started to howl.  
“Sulan.”, she snapped, shaking his shoulder until his eyes opened. “Can you climb on a tree?”  
“What?” the poor man asked, not wholly awakened yet.  
“I need you to climb on the tree, and take the baby with you. We are being pursued.”  
“Pursued? Pursued by whom?” his eyes were wide and frightened.  
“Do as I say and climb on a tree.” she used her throne room voice. “You may ask questions later.”

As soon as they were safely in the upper branches, Asha’nan’len called upon her magic. She spread her arms wide, standing at place as the pieces of her armor snapped around her torso and limbs. It was a very handy enchantment in her line of work. Senris had perfected it four hundred years ago when he had started persuading father to let her train as a special enforcer.  
She drew a relieved breath as the final piece of armor clicked in place, weighing her sword in her right hand. The weight of metal was familiar, and the runes were cracking with energy.  
“What’s that sigil?” Sulan sounded almost hysterical. “I didn’t know you were—“  
“Be quiet. They might have archers.” Asha’nan’len advised and threw a barrier over them before turning to face the darkspawn patrol.

\--

“You are frightfully good at killing.” Sulan said hesitantly from his spot high in the tree as she started to dig a hole to bury the bodies. Usually she preferred to burn them, but doing so would reveal their location miles away, and the smell was a dead tell.  
“Thank you.” she said, feeling pleased. It was always nice when the compliments didn’t come with suggestions to polish her technique.  
“It was only a patrol of six. The standard size. According their basic routine, we have one and half days before they fail to arrive to their next checkpoint.” Asha’nan’len explained, heaving the last Hurlock on the bottom of the hole and starting to pull a memory from Beyond.  
“What are you doing?”  
“All places have memories, and they prefer to stay in shape which they held for longest. A well-trained mage can convince her target to retake the certain form it once held. In this case, the ground wishes to be whole and undisturbed, like it was before I dug the hole.” she told him as she worked her magic.  
“It doesn’t mind few darkspawn bodies?” Sulan asked critically.  
“It does, but then it’s a question of whose will is stronger. Innate objects don’t have much willpower.”  
“You weren’t supposed to be a mage.” he said, holding Dirthamen. They both looked equally judgemental.  
“I’m a bad girl.” she shrugged, flashing him a brilliant smile. “I lie, cheat and steal.”  
He didn’t look pleased. Shemlen were just plain odd, and this one was even stranger than most. It was one of her best pick-up lines!  
“I knew the baby isn’t yours. Did you steal him too?” Sulan asked.  
“How did you know?” she asked. She could and should kill him later, but this could prove to be vital.  
“I’m not that stupid. This is a very new baby. Days old, not even weeks. No woman who had given birth yesterday would have circled her hips like that when someone is fucking her. You are supposed to be sore. And bleeding like ox’s throat.”  
“Oh, fenedhis!” Asha’nan’len cursed, kicking the large rock near her. “I just hate this crappy world! First time I’m getting laid in three years and the idiot didn’t even bother to get me off, but he managed to blow my cover. That’s libertarian society for you!”  
Sulan watched her from his branch up in a tree and asked sceptically:  
“How can you blame society regime for something like that?”  
“Oh, I can.”, Asha’nan’len breathed. She jumped, closing fingers of her left hand around the lowest branch and pulled herself up. Best way to kill the man would be simply dropping him down, but she didn’t have time to position him right; he still held Dirthamen and sword she held in right hand was much quicker.  
“Women wearing full plate don’t generally pull themselves up to a tree with only one hand.” Sulan said quickly, holding Dirthamen protectively against his chest.  
“That’s their problem if they can’t.”, she flashed him a predatory smile and swung closer to him. She calculated the distance between their branch and hers as she sheathed her sword, revaluating her tactics. A short-range jump. Securing Dirthamen with her right hand, closing the fingers of left around the branch above. Using momentum to kick him off the branch. He would likely fall neck down, breaking it. No visible damage otherwise. Yes.  
“Wait!” he yelped.  
“If you are going to use ‘drop the baby’-plot, I won’t make this quick and clean.” she warned him, tensing her muscles to jump.  
“I wouldn’t do that!” he looked insulted. “He’s innocent! It’s not his fault he’s been stolen from his poor parents for some nefarious purpose! What I was saying that whatever you are doing, you clearly need to do better than this. If I realized there was something odd about you, I would imagine Inquisition will notice you even sooner. I could advise you to fit in better, to improve your cover. If your answer satisfies me.”  
“My answer to what?” Asha’nan’len asked sharply.  
“I demand that you take the baby back to his parents.” he said. “You can’t just steal people. It’s wrong.”  
She started to laugh.

 

He was still a bit miffed, when they climbed down from the tree.  
“How can I know for certain that his mother gave him to you and you are taking him to his father?”  
“You can’t.”, Asha’nan’len said as she cleaned the baby with a spell civilized people used, not bothering to continue messy pretense with cloth diapers. “What you need is an ideal called faith. Of course, it might be in short supply in your glorious ‘Third Elvhenan’.”  
“Humph.” Sulan huffed. “Excuse me if I find it hard to trust a woman who doesn’t tell me even her true name.”  
“Now you are being overly suspicious.” she clicked her tongue. “My father might have named me Ashiri.”  
“You did it again.” he said, looking smugly superior. “Fathers do not name their children. That oppressive practice ended Ages ago. These days children choose their own names.”  
She gave him a dark look and remarked:  
“And that is probably why people run around with stupid names which don’t suit them at all. Like you named yourself after Mathelin’s squire who was the last to wield the sword Evanura, and you aren’t even one of the People.”  
His eyes glinted as he spread his bedroll on clean spot on the ground. Their former campsite was soaked with black blood.  
“You aren’t as ignorable as you pretend.”  
“And your name is stupid.” Asha’nan’len rebutted and turned her back on him. Her armored back, to be exact. She was no fool.

“How old are you?” Sulan asked next day when they started to walk towards north.  
“Why do you ask?”,  
“I’m trying to make conversation.”  
“Or gather information for your own reasons.” Asha’nan’len noted.  
Her shoulders were stiff from sleeping in armor, and the grey, cold world around them was just depressing. Looking up in the sky and not seeing sun was unnatural. Like everything else in Thedas. She was so grateful that father had decided to leave Thedas when she was little girl. Surely she would have turned into Despair if she had to live in place like this, with annoying shemlen who probably didn’t even know what real light looked like. Right then, she wanted nothing more than go home and have a nice, warm soak in the holy pool.  
“Can I guess?”  
“If you must.” she replied absently. “However, it doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”  
“I can start if you like. I’m twenty-four.”, he offered. “I’m from Serault. I’m the second youngest of seven children and most of my siblings work in the glass factory. Have you heard of it? It’s positively ancient, started over seven hundred years ago…”

He was resilient, she had to give him that. Asha’nan’len would not have expected having to listen his endless chatter for almost three days. She even gave him the apples from her sack to keep him quiet for a moment.  
First he told her everything there was to know about him. Sulan explained how his older brothers had tricked him into eating tadpoles when he was three, and how he had almost drowned into same creek when he was seven. Reciting his life story took one day.  
Then she had to listen through the various stories of his six siblings, their children, spouses and other villagers who all seemed to be somehow related. It took two days. With a population of two hundred and fifty, it was a miracle he didn’t look badly interbred. Of course, it was hard to tell without seeing the rest of the family. Maybe they all were long-limbed like scarecrows.  
She had to admit, however, that his stories painted quite foreign picture. He spoke of long and languid days spent playing with another children, pranking other villagers, splashing in water and practically not having any idea what they were supposed to be doing. Apparently nothing. Nobody seemed to care as long as they were not causing trouble. Asha’nan’len could not understand the lack of investment from his parents, or his oddly distant relationship with them. It seemed to be enough for them if he wrote home once a year and stopped by if he was in region. It sounded vastly different than her family, whose ties bound.

“And that was how Marron got his pig farm.” Sulan finished.  
Dirthamen was yawning and making little mewling noises. It was time to camp. Tomorrow they would reach a major crossroads, and Asha’nan’len wanted to be well rested for that.  
“We should stop early tonight.” she said. “I need to prepare few things.”  
“I have money. We could stay in an inn.” Sulan offered. “There is a nice one few miles away, and I wouldn’t mind sleeping in actual bed.”  
“A bath would be even nicer.” she admitted.  
“Both?” he suggested. “They charge by room. I can sleep on the floor.”  
She simply nodded, too cold and tired to argue. This form couldn’t hold for long; she could already feel Elgar’nan’s magic starting to twist her forcibly to her true shape, and Asha’nan’len knew that she had to release the illusion spells making her Ashiri soon. Otherwise they would just break, and it always hurt more.

 

6.

They both agreed that the baby should have first dips on warm water, and Sulan claimed that he was well versed in bathing babies; a courtesy of having nieces and nephews. He rolled up his sleeves and slowly sank Dirthamen in water, supporting baby’s small head on his palm. The shocked expression on baby’s face was comical, and Asha’nan’len could not help but chuckle. Oh, poor little God of Secrets. He had a long road before him to regain his former knowledge if even warm bath baffled him so. She was feeling mellow, and the bed looked wide enough. And if he kept company for the baby, she could bathe in peace, selfish part of her mind remarked. Even little gods required attention from their servants.  
“You may sleep on the window side of bed.” she announced as Sulan lifted Dirthamen up from the bathtub and wrapped him in towel.  
“Are you certain?”  
“It’s better if I sleep on door’s side, so any possible intruders have to get past me.”, she informed him matter-of-factly.  
“That was not what I meant, but...” he looked at bed and then at hard, uninviting floor. “All right, then.”

He would have declined bath, but Asha’nan’len told him that in no terms she would share a bed with a man who had been trekking in woods for over a week without getting properly washed  
“Either you go in voluntarily or I will make you.”, she pointed out.  
He looked uncomfortable.  
“I don’t like the idea of washing while someone is holding a sword at my throat.” he tried to joke.  
“Shouldn’t you try to avoid such situation, then?” she asked. “Is this about shemlen modesty? You told me that you used to hang your trousers over a branch of tree while you swam, until the day neighbor’s children stole them.”  
“I didn’t tell you that I had to hide in a bush while my friend hunted down the culprits.” he said.  
“All right.” she said, rolling her eyes. “I get it.”  
She took a chair, positioned it facing the opposite direction and sat down.  
“Do you have any friends?” he asked as she heard sound of clothes being dropped on the floor. Of course. The man couldn’t even bathe without chatting.  
“You know I’m not going to answer to that.” Asha’nan’len replied.  
“Why you are so averse to any attempts to be a bit more social?”  
“Sulan, I’m a special enforcer. It’s not an occupation which lends itself easily to making new acquaintances. Most people who meet me at work, end up dead. By my hand.”  
“That is...unsettling thought.” he replied slowly.  
“Good.”, Asha’nan’len said.

When her turn came, she changed the water and let herself sink under the surface. The single candle stub the inn offered for poor guests was already spent, so it was pitch-black dark. The familiar cold was creeping in the room, and Sulan had taken the baby to bed so he would stay warm. But Asha’nan’len didn’t mind even the freezing water. She sighed for relief as she reversed the transmutation spell over her face, feeling her features turning back to her own form.  
Using transmutation for disguise was safer option than illusion, which could be revealed with dispel, but it was vastly more uncomfortable. Senris had once compared it to letting someone to punch your nose on the side and keeping it that way. In her case, father’s red runes on her skin resisted all transformations and if she didn’t revert back, it started to hurt very badly. The sentinels had once tested how long she could hold off; the test had ended on seventh day when father had stormed in, ripped her spell off and told Senris in no uncertain terms that if they made her scream like that ever again, he would give them all pigs’ snouts. Permanently. Asha’nan’len was sorry she didn’t remember it; she had not been coherent at the time.

She warmed the water with fire spell until it was scorching hot; just the way she liked it. Then she let her hair down and soaked. Ah, the bliss. In the silent darkness, she could almost relax--  
“How does one become a special enforcer?” Sulan’s voice interrupted her peace.  
“You just never stop, do you?” she asked, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping her lips.  
“She laughs, you live.” he offered. “My favorite Tethras quote.”  
“It does sound like him.” Asha’nan’len admitted, remembering the durgen’len who had brought Spirit of Vengeance to her birthday feast. He had told her stories and given her a nickname.  
“You like reading classics, then?”  
“Is this a clever ploy to find out if I consider smutty novels classic literature?” she asked. “For your information, I don’t. And ‘Hard in Hightown’ is no fun to read if you are told to write an essay of all mistakes the characters do either leaving or not noticing clues.”  
She scrubbed off a spot of dried blood and continued:  
“To be honest, Keeper Takes His Staff was ruined in same way. All books at home are scribbled full of educational notes. My tutors made me do exams on them.”  
“Not being able to enjoy books sounds bleak way to live.”, he said, sounding actually sorry. “And killing people isn’t any better. What do you do for fun? When you are not working?”  
“I sew.”, Asha’nan’len replied. “I made the baby smock little one wears. And I used to grow flowers. I liked that.”  
“You said ‘used’. Why did you stop?”  
“If I tell you, will you stop asking questions and go to sleep?”  
“I can do that.” he said, sounding pleased. Probably thought he had made a breakthrough. Ha. He had picked a wrong story for that.  
“When I was a small girl, we moved away and rest of the family stayed behind. At first, I missed my brother who was already adult and didn’t come with us. I had this star-struck admiration towards him, and I was lonely. In new place, there was a boy, not much older than me. His name was Tyrion. His father worked for mine as a sort of overseer to my father’s lands. Of course, when Tyrion’s father noticed that we got along very well, he started bringing Tyrion with him every time he came to our house.”, she said.  
“As a farm manager’s son, he must have known a lot about flowers.” Sulan remarked. “Did he introduce you to hobby?”  
Asha’nan’len wondered how the proud king of Vhen’alas would have reacted if anyone called him ‘farm manager’, but decided not to solve the misunderstanding.  
“In a way, but it didn’t happen like you think.” she said. “We grew up, like children do. At some point, I fell in love with him. And he told me that he loved me too. His father was overjoyed. My father was… Then I thought he was being overly protective, but later I understood it was wisdom. Father said that I was welcome to enjoy everything Tyrion had to offer, but as my lord, he would not give his permission to any kind of bond between us. He reminded me of my true nature, and said although he didn’t doubt my feelings, he did not know Tyrion well enough to judge him yet.”  
“I was, of course, furious. When Tyrion told me that his family had gifted us a very nice villa, I left my father’s house and moved in with him. He wanted to have exclusive relationship, with no other lovers, and I agreed. And we were happy for many years.” she said wistfully. “I was in love and ridiculously happy. As one is, when he embraces his true nature. I started to garden in the fields around our house, so we would have a hundred different flowers ready for the day my father would give me permission to offer Tyrion the crown of shadows and stars.”  
“I have read of it. The old elvhen bonding ceremony. For year and a day, then forever. Is your family religious? You mentioned the idea of true nature. Not many believe in that anymore.”  
“You could say we are religious. I revere Creators, when it is needed.” she said. “My flowers grew and grew, but father did not relent. When I think back of those days, all I remember are the flowers. I soaked the land with magic, cherishing each new bud and leaf, until people from different parts of the country started visiting our gates just to see my garden. Tyrion was bright and beautiful as he walked through the flowers on his way home. And he was even better when he laid me down on them, making love to me like I was most precious thing in the whole world. Our house was filled with scent of flowers. And then it all went wrong.”  
“What happened?” Sulan’s voice was genuinely concerned, not intruding.  
Asha’nan’len sat up and rose from the bath. She didn’t feel like soaking anymore. She dried herself with a scratchy towel and said:  
“I got very badly injured when I was a child. As a result, I can’t have children, and Tyrion knew it. We talked about it and he said it was fine. That he wanted me more than fatherhood. However, he had this certain...kink. He found impregnation a rousing subject to talk about. When we were in bed. And I found it hurtful, so I asked him to stop, and he did so, because he was a good man. I thought it was the end of it.”  
“Then one day, when I was working,”, she said, pulling a clean shirt over her head and sitting down on bed, “I found out that he was a regular customer in local pleasure house, and he had children with four women working there. One of them had two of his, aged five years apart. I went home and I ripped off every single flower, leaving just broken sprouts. Then I gathered my own things, walked to my father’s house, and bawled against his shoulder. And my father went and killed Tyrion.”  
“Oh, by Andraste’s grace.” Sulan whispered.  
“They told me later that his remains had to be scraped from walls with a spoon. A _spoon_.” she tried not to start crying, but it didn’t work. Her words came out broken and too high. “He died in terrible agony, and we never had time to talk. I don’t know why he wasn’t loyal to me, and I don’t know if he ever loved me at all. If it all was just a ploy to gain my father’s favor from the very beginning, or if he was true at least for a time, but something went wrong.”  
The stupid tears just kept coming. Asha’nan’len knew it was a combination of exhaustion and stress, lingering pain from transmutation spell and a very bad choice of topic, but it was like someone had opened floodgates. She tried to think how foolish she was to pour her heart out for a shemlen stranger who would likely tell the whole story to his next travelling companion, but even that didn’t stop it.  
“I’m so sorry.” Sulan said. He crawled over bed and sat next to her, slowly and carefully pulling her into hug. Like she was some frightened animal who could lash at him if he moved too quickly. He smelled like wet shemlen, and his stubble was scratchy. But wet shemlen was, at moment, a preferable scent compared to flowers.

 

7.

It was not morning yet, when Sulan woke up to oddest sensation disturbing his sleep. It was a faint glow of light, a bit like candle flame, but unmoving. He opened his eyes, and almost yelped when he noticed it was her. Ashiri or whatever her name was.  
She was laying her back turned towards him, and something was seriously wrong with her. Her hair which was supposed to be jaw-length and brown, was a cascade of silvery blond reaching all way down her waist. The color was peculiar, like someone had taken starlight and spun it. Her whole body glowed faintly in the dark, and the light was coming from under her skin. Sulan had once seen a permanent illusion engraving of sunlight in Halamshiral Museum, and it was only thing he could compare to this thing he saw. It wasn’t veilfire, it wasn’t pale light of magic and it wasn’t candle flame. It was almost a living thing, sated and bright, receding when she breathed in only to return when she breathed out. The infant was sleeping in her arms, safe and sound, and did not seem to be harmed. If anything, he seemed to be curling closer against the odd heat radiating from her.  
“Ashiri?” he asked.  
She turned on her back, causing the baby to twitch in his sleep. Her face was nothing like he remembered. The narrow chin and dorsal hump were gone, as surely as the freckles on her cheeks. Her features were flawless, and cold in their distant beauty. He couldn’t imagine that mouth ever spitting curses or exchanging annoyed words. And she was younger. A girl who wasn’t quite adult yet. Seventeen, he would have said.  
“What?” she asked sleepily, and even her voice was different. “You promised to be quiet until morning.”  
“You are glowing. In the dark. And there is something wrong with your face. I mean, it’s not wrong per se because you are very beautiful in frightening way, but you don’t look the same at all. If you are the same person. I’m not entirely sure...”  
“Sulan.”, she said, the familiar notes of annoyance creeping in. She opened her eyes in the dark, and they were pale blue instead of dark grey. The whites were red-rimmed; otherwise he wouldn’t have been sure at all if she was the same person who had cried her heart out few hours earlier. “What does it take to make you shut up?”  
“You can’t use words like ‘shut up’.” he said. “It’s considered rude.”  
“I’m tired, I have a headache, I want to sleep and I’m not having this conversation now. I can glow in the dark if I want to. You always boast how citizens of Third Elvhenan are free to do whatever strikes their fancy.”  
“If you are a citizen of Third Elvhenan, I’m willing to eat my copy of—“  
Sighing, she turned to face him and kissed him sleepily, cutting him off in the middle of sentence. Her lips were warm and soft, and he was too shocked to do anything, even answer the kiss.  
She smiled at him and said:  
“I knew there had to be a way to silence you. Good night, Sulan.”  
Then she turned her back again, put her arm around the baby and fell asleep.  
He had never felt like such a fool in his entire life. And for once, he had nothing to say.

“Do you have to do that?” he asked miserably, flinching as he heard first hideous crack of bones moving out of place. Sulan was bundling up the baby in his spare sweater while she sat on rickety chair and did something terrible to her face.  
“How would you explain to innkeeper that my face changed during the night?” she asked, hissing from pain.  
“It sounds disgusting. I’m a healer. I can _visualize_ the damage you’re doing, and it’s making _me_ sick.” he said. “You could wear a hood down on your face.”  
“And what would we do when someone asked me to pull it down?” she asked. “Kill everyone?”  
“Actually, I can’t fight.”  
“What?” she turned to look at him, her features forgettable and ordinary again.  
“I can’t fight. At all. I have never held a bow or a sword, and I don’t know a single offensive spell.” he said proudly. “I’m a pacifist, and I have never killed anyone. Violence is ethically wrong.”  
“Just my luck.” she sighed.

“I need to go to Nevarra.” she told him as they walked along a small road which would soon join a larger one, leading to major crossroads nearby. “My brother is there, and I need his help to get baby home.”  
“Deep Roads shortcut would be quicker and safer, but the darkspawn road tolls are famous. In a bad way.” Sulan said. “I still think it would be better. The fields of Ghislain are famous of bandits, and nobody travels above if they can avoid it.”  
“We have to avoid mindless ones at all costs. They have this delusion about me. It’s very awkward.”  
“What kind of delusion?”  
“I’m just saying that if something happens, I need you to take baby and go to your parents’ house. I can get you from Serault after I escape.” she said.  
“Why you make this sound so ominous? Aren’t you telling me something? Are you planning to get caught?” he asked, growing worried.  
“I prefer not to. However, getting through this area was always a weak part of my plan.” she admitted. “According to my intel, an old family acquaintance lives in this region, and I don’t care to meet with him.”  
“Now you are making me just more worried.” Sulan said unhappily.  
“Look, one of the reasons why my father decided to move away was that other family members had this great idea of marrying me to a.. Somewhat influential, older man.”, she said. “Much older. My mother was especially insistent about the advantages of match, but I was thirteen, and terrified of prospect. You know the bonds of elvhen are permanent. Well, they tried to make it happen while papae was away on business journey, but my brother stopped it. He was in minority, however, and I don’t know what would have happened if father hadn’t come home earlier than he planned. Papae threw a fit, yelling that no daughter of his would be a child bride. He packed up our household, cut all contact with our family and we moved out. I haven’t seen any of them since.”  
“Oh, Maker.” Sulan grimaced. “Are all your family members sharks?”  
She smiled at him amusedly, slipping her hand into crook of his arm.  
“Don’t be a ninny, little shemlen. I haven’t even told you about one time when my aunt poisoned my father. Also, there were several assassins sent after me by my father’s wife, but I was just a baby and don’t remember much about those. They got quite close, killing my nanny and one of father’s guards. And my mother tried to kidnap me once. I cried so hard that father stopped her, so she destroyed our house instead…”  
“Stop it.”, Sulan begged. “Don’t you have even one nice and normal family story? I’m starting to doubt if I should allow you to return the poor baby among people like you describe.”  
“How, exactly, you would stop me?” she asked with professional curiosity. “Since you are a pacifist.”  
“I would have to appeal to your compassion.”  
“A curious choice, and not very effective. I don’t have one.” she replied.  
“You lie.” he said. “It’s not just a delivery mission for you. You love the baby. It’s so obvious even I can see it. You wouldn’t let him go through such hurts as you just told me.”  
“I would not.” she said, and something in her voice made Sulan think of the creature he had seen last night. Beautiful, distant and as regal as any queen on her throne. “I will kill them first.”

They stopped in late afternoon at one of guard cabins. The yard was crowded with soldiers, and it made Asha’nan’len reserved. This was not supposed to be one of more popular routes to north.  
“Give me water skins.” Sulan said. “I will fill them at well and ask about news. It’s best if you stay a bit further with the baby.”  
“Why?” she asked.  
“Its safer.” he answered. “I don’t want to see you going through another incident like... our original meeting just because you have to keep your cover. It’s wrong.”  
She was going to tell him that she was not the hapless victim he saw her as, but her face was still sore and hurting, and she was tired. Suppressing her magic and essence of Sun took a lot of energy.  
“All right.” she said, handing him the water skins. “Let’s try this your way.”

Filling two water skins took far longer than it ought to have. Asha’nan’len watched Sulan talking with several soldiers and finally vanishing inside a guard cabin. It made her uneasy. What if she had misjudged him? He had seen too much already. At the end of their journey, she would have to wipe his memories clean, or maybe kill him. She should not have trusted him with Dirthamen’s safety. She cradled the little one closer to herself, trying to suppress a spark of fear in her heart. She could level this place and kill the shemlen, but it would draw attention, and she didn’t entertain false ideas of her own talents. She could take down a Forgotten One in single combat, as long as her opponent wasn’t Andruil, and Anaris accompanied by his darkspawn would be stretch.  
“I won’t let them have you again.” she whispered in their own language. “I will keep you safe.”

When Sulan came back, he grinned at her. Asha’nan’len eyed him carefully, ready to bolt.  
“Good news.” he said, not noticing her reservation. “I managed to get us an escort all way up to Churneau. They are sending reinforcements, a group of fifty men, to Andoral’s Reach, and their group is a short of a healer. So they hired me. Three coppers for a day. The captain was a bit stingy at first, but we reached an agreement after I pointed out that he can’t expect me to provide for my wife and child with lousy two coppers.”  
“Wife and child?” she asked. “How long we’ve been married?”  
“One year.” he said easily. “It was a whirlwind romance, and your family didn’t approve. Wandering around and doing small jobs for farmers worked fine for first months, but now that we have a baby, we’ve decided to seek shelter from my family in Serault. You are a bit anxious on whether they’ll accept you, but I’m sure it will work out.”  
“And how we managed to have an elvhen baby?” she arched her eyebrows.  
“I thought of that too.” he said, pulling out a small bonnet from his pocket. “There was a trader near the well. Babies wear these in northwestern Orlais. The traditional embroidery is meant to ward off evil spirits. It started maybe six, seven hundred years ago when most of the town and village in Serault got destroyed by big black dragon, and same fate befell on several other settlements in region.”  
Asha’nan’len stared at the embroidery. Her father’s familiar sigil, twisted and corrupted almost beyond recognition, decorated the little bonnet.  
“I see.” she said slowly, pulling the hat over Dirthamen’s tiny head and making a bow under his chin. “This will do fine.”  
“Good.”, Sulan said happily.  
“Do you have mead in Serault?” Asha’nan’len asked, although she was almost sure of answer. “Sickly sweet stuff? Or a great forest?”  
“Oh, we do. The region is famous of glass factory, and the mead is very popular. The Tirashan forest was once home for wild Dalish clans, I’ve been told…” Sulan started his endless chatter as he linked his arm with hers and they joined a line of soldiers heading towards north.

 

8.

One group of soldiers was much like any other, although Asha’nan’len knew Senris would have balked at someone comparing the sentinels to this group of ragged shems. Her brothers and sisters-in-arms in Elgar’nan’s service found pride from their station and their servitude; these soldiers didn’t consider their service for Third Elvhenan as a higher calling. They obeyed orders, but they lacked the precision required to excel, the familiarity born from centuries of practice which made them move as one unit. It was curious thing to watch, Asha’nan’len thought. She had grown up among the sentinels, and Vhen’alas was a military society, built by the Kossith and elvhen overseeing them.  
Asha’nan’len was the lady of Wrath and Thunder, the future general of Elgar’nan’s army, and one day she would find herself leading a war against these people. The conflict was inevitable. Sooner or later the shemlen would grow curious of their earlier roots and start to wonder if there was other places than their Thedas. Or Fen’Harel and the rest of their brethren would have a moments respite from trying to guide this blighted world, and start to question where Elgar’nan had gone. Eventually they would sail north and see the wonderful land where sun still shone and earth thrived, blessing their son with gifts. But after seeing the state of current Thedas, Asha’nan’len didn’t think it would happen soon. Mythal and Elgar’nan would have time to reconcialiate, and she could raise Dirthamen in safety. And the oddly interesting foolish pacifists of Thedas could live their lives without ever knowing that shadows of war stalked their dreams.

So far, being reserved had worked well, because nobody expected her to try to make friends with soldiers. Asha’nan’len hadn’t talked with them, being satisfied with watching. Besides, Sulan talked more than any man should have, chatting their ears off. The man had cleaned awful lot of information in two days. He was like a friendly leech, sucking in and not leaving until you told him your life’s story just to get rid of him. If he had been less principled man, he would have made an excellent information gatherer.

But he had principles, and Asha’nan’len was starting to grow a bit annoyed with his politeness. It had been Sulan’s stupid idea to tell everyone that they were married. A whirlwind romance! And still he barely could make himself to lay his bedroll next to hers when they camped. When he had accidentally brushed his arm against her breast while supporting her and the baby while they crossed a small river, he had apologized, earning a strange glance from nearby soldier.

One of soldiers, an older woman, approached her on the fifth day of their march.  
“Your baby seems to be a sound sleeper.” she remarked, opening a conversation. “How old is he?”  
“Two months.” Asha’nan’len arranged Ashiri’s quiet, proud smile on her face.  
“I thought so.”, the woman grinned, revealing two missing teeth with her wide smile. “Your man is a bit skittish, and you don’t seem to be very happy about it. Mine was much the same after he had seen me give birth to our oldest. I watched that for a while, but then I grew annoyed and set him rights.”  
“How did you do that?” Asha’nan’len asked interestedly.  
“I lured him in a barn and showed him that even though I had a baby, I still had my womanly parts functioning.” the woman cackled. “It did us a world of good, and I didn’t have to fight the urge to hit him on the head every time he tried to treat me like holy Andraste herself.”  
“I can see the lure.” Asha’nan’len remarked, watching Sulan through narrowed eyes. He was walking ahead, and talking with a fat man who carried an axe over his shoulder.  
“I and the other women have been talking.” the female soldier replied. “It happens to be that after we reach the command post in few days, we’re going to camp at an old farm, which offers a bit more privacy than bedroll on the ground. If you are a smart girl, you’d take an advantage of situation.”  
Asha’nan’len knew a warning when she heard one. She adjusted Dirthamen’s sling over her shoulders and asked lightly, not meeting the woman’s eyes:  
“Is there something I should know?”  
“You’ve seen Laszlo and his bunch? Laszlo is the quartermaster, and he treats supplies like they were his precious children, loath to part even single slice of bread. He isn’t convinced that you two are married at all. He says that if you aren’t a couple, the captain’s offer to feed mage’s wife and kid doesn’t count. Laszlo can be a loud one, and as a single man, he doesn’t understand how skittish men can get after having their firstborn. For your sake and the babe’s, it would be good to put those rumors in rest before something bad happens.”  
“Thank you.” Asha’nan’len said. “I’ve been fed up with his politeness anyway.”  
“Good on you.” the woman chuckled and they exchanged a few words more before she rejoined her comrades.

That night, when they laid their bedrolls on the ground, she promptly moved backwards, pushing her back against his stomach until he had to choose between sleeping on the ground or spooning her.  
“What are you doing?” he whispered in her ear.  
“The people are concerned about lack of affection you show me, _husband_.” she replied. “And I’m cold. You are warm.”  
She pulled the thick blanket over them, making sure that Dirthamen was nice and toasty under the furs. Then she grabbed Sulan’s hand and guided it over the small curve of her breast, resting over the thick fabric of her jacket.  
“Better.”, she told him. “It’s not like I’ll bite you. Unless you want me to.”  
“I wouldn’t demand such a-“, his words were cut short when she pressed her ass against his groin.  
“When have you ever demanded anything of me?” she asked. “Stop being so skittish. Now just hold me nicely and let me sleep.”

 

She didn’t make habit of stalking people’s dreams, but it was reasonable thing to do in this particular situation. She had trusted her and Dirthamen’s safety to a shemlen man who was not bound to Elgar’nan’s will, and whom she barely knew. A discussion about their cover was too important to be had during the day. If the situation was dire enough for unfamiliar woman to slip a word of warning, it had to be dealt with immediately.

It was easy to find the warm copper glow of his dreams and enter. But the subject was entirely unexpected. When she stepped in his dream, she saw a vision of their first unfortunate meeting. Except this time, the man behind her was not the guard captain. It was Sulan, trailing hungry kisses over her bare back and neck as his hands slid over the curves of her breasts.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she watched her dream-self turn around to face him.  
“I would never hurt you like the others did.” he told her as he threw his shirt away.  
“I know.” her dream-self replied. “I want you for you.”  
“It has nothing to do with your mission?” he asked.  
“You were never my mission.” her dream-self promised.  
“I will only bring you happiness.” he whispered. “Only good things, my vhenan’ara. I love you.”

Asha’nan’len turned away and ran from the dream. Sex she could handle with ease. But love was another matter entirely.

 

9.

When they woke up early next morning, Sulan knew something was wrong. She was in his arms, warm and soft, but unmoving like a panicked hare caught in a trap. He didn’t know how long she had been awake, but there were dark shadows under her eyes, and she was looking straight at the sky.  
“Don’t be frightened.” he whispered, desperate to make it better. “I would never hurt you.”  
“You don’t even know what you are asking for.”, she whispered so quietly that he could barely make out the words.  
He caught one of the soldiers, Laszlo his name was, glancing at their direction and remembered her warning last night.  
“I know enough.” he told her, and gathered her close, throwing his leg over hers under their blanket.  
“You are kind, and sweet. You are reasonable and wise enough to admit your mistakes. You are willing to sacrifice too much for people you love, and you are a fiercely protective mother for the baby. And you have a vicious sense of humor, and your political opinions are just terrible.” Sulan said.  
“You have a terrible case of morning wood.” she remarked.  
“And you are willing to say anything to escape a talk about feelings.” he retorted, frowning at her.  
“I’m not very good at them.” she admitted to his neck, not meeting his eyes.  
“That’s nonsense.” Sulan said. “You are just frightened to trust people. Which isn’t that surprising, because you have the worst family I’ve ever heard about.”  
“That might be true.” she offered him a somewhat fragile smile. “All right. It’s Asha’nan’len.”  
“What?”  
“My name.” she sighed. “I would prefer if you called me by my name.”  
“It is what your father named you?” he asked to be sure.  
“Yes. That is what my father named me on my birthday when I summoned a spirit to proclaim myself an adult. I shed my childhood name, and was given another, to become what I am.”  
“I have to look the syllables from dictionary when we stop somewhere with a library.” he said. “I don’t think you are going to tell me what they mean.”  
“Of course not.” her lips curved up smug expression. “You were the scholar, were you not?”  
“I never said I was a successful one.” he remarked.

The guard in the camp was making his last rounds before waking up everyone. Their whispered conversation had drawn some attention, but their blankets were a little ways from others, giving them an illusion of privacy.  
“Don’t be afraid.” Sulan said again, growing serious. “I won’t hurt you.”  
“I will try.” Asha’nan’len whispered.  
Slowly and carefully he took her face between his hands, and kissed her. It was not sleepy brush of their first kiss, because they both were wide awake now. At his careful touch, her lips parted. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss, wanting to make it lingering and sweet.  
It was all those things, and more. His hands were entangled in her hair, and Sulan steadfastly ignored the ache in his loins, kissing her again with slow and unhurried way which made his heart burn with love. His hand traveled down her back, pulling her closer, and he smiled when he saw the fragility of her expression replaced something else, softer and happier. On that moment, he wanted to believe that same feeling which had stirred in his heart days ago, was waking in hers, too.  
“I-“, he whispered, wanting to tell how he felt about her, but then the baby started to cry. The little one was demanding immediate attention in very shrill voice, probably wanting for a new diaper. The babe didn’t like the traditional rag solution they were forced to use for the sake of not revealing Asha’nan’len as a mage. Sulan had not known that a thing like diaper spell even existed. It wasn’t taught at College of Enchanters.  
“I’ll get him.” he sighed, sitting up. The camp was stirring around them anyway, and as he carried the baby across the camp towards stream, a group of women watched him with amusement.  
“They always wake up at worst time, don’t they?” a grey-haired female sergeant asked.  
“They do.”, Sulan agreed grumpily.

\--

It was a torture, Sulan decided as he once again spread their bedrolls under a tree, in quiet spot between the army tents. They had been stuck at this Maker-forgotten swamp for five days now, and Asha’nan’len had grown quieter with each day. When he asked about it, she had only said that her face hurt.  
It was supposed to be less than two days’ march to abandoned farm, but some idiot had mistaken death root for an elfroot while seasoning the stew, and although nobody had died, almost ten men had gotten sick. He had his hands full with running an impromptu field hospital for shitting and vomiting people, and Sulan thanked his luck that neither him or Asha’nan’len had been even close to food being prepared, neither had they eaten it. She had taken one sniff at the soup and poured it on the ground, stating it was poisoned. The mood at the camp was explosive, to put it mildly.

“I told the captain that the sick are well enough to march tomorrow.” he told her as he reached to tuck the blankets around her and the baby. He had been worried about little one; cold and damp weather was bad for infants and the swamp wasn’t good for anyone, but babe seemed to have a sturdy constitution and so far, there hadn’t been a single sniff.  
“Finally.”, she sighed. “How long until the farm?”  
“One and half days.” he said. “Is it bad?”  
“It is.”, she admitted quietly. “The damaged tissue is swelling, and it hurts. It’s worse when I don’t have anything to distract myself with.”  
He thought for a moment, and then said:  
“Turn around to face me. I could try something. They’ll just think we’re smooching again.”  
“Again?” there was laughter in her voice as she did what he asked.  
“At least they have stopped wondering if we’re married or not.” Sulan smiled and placed his hand carefully on her face. She flinched away. He could feel the heat of inflamed tissue under his fingers. It was not good. Concentrating his magic, he summoned a spell he usually used to treat burn damage or stop the bleeding by shrinking blood vessels. As frost spread across her face, she let out a small, relieved sigh.  
“There.”, he said. “Is it better?”  
“Thank you, Sulan. It helps.”  
“I can keep it up until we fall asleep.” he promised. “Although I’m not willing to risk smooching. I could get stuck. Have you ever licked cold iron in winter?”  
“No. “, she said amusedly. “But I bet you have.”  
“It’s true.” he admitted. “I just have to find alternative ways to give you the distraction you wanted.”  
He pulled her leg over his, and sneaked his free hand under her skirts. Her eyes widened a bit as he moved his fingers up her thigh.  
“May I?” he whispered, renewing the cold spell for her face with his right hand.  
She gave him the smallest nod, sliding her hands on his trouser strings. It was a question, and he shook his head. He didn’t want to have her like this, a fumble under blankets in an army camp. She would have done that for her cover, and he didn’t want to be a cover. He wanted to be her pleasure.

Under a shadow of a tree, Sulan of Serault thought it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Her hips moved as she rode his hand, and he could feel the shudders running through her body as his thumb circled her nub. She was wet and warm and oblivious in her pleasure. She threw her head back, offering her neck to kiss, and he sucked her pale skin, growing painfully hard.  
He found a place inside her which made her tremble, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. He wanted nothing but throw the stupid covers aside, to see her like this, her eyes shadowed with pleasure, pale limbs astride in the moonlight. She moved frantically, and he moved with her, pursuing every time she tried to move away from him. Her muscles grew taunt, and he knew that she could have blasted him into eternity if she wished so, but her lips opened into helpless mewl, instead. It was a plea, and he did what she asked, kissing her on the lips which turned even colder on the moment he felt her pulsing against his fingers.

And then the camp guard shouted warning of darkspawn approaching.

“Sulan. We need to leave. Now.” she said, frantically reaching for the baby. “I can feel one of them coming.”  
“Who?” he didn’t understand. “Where would we go? It’s middle of the night, I have a contract, and we’re in the middle of a swamp.”  
“There is no time. Please, Sulan.” Asha’nan’len was begging him. “The Forgotten Ones are upon us, and they can’t have the baby.”  
He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but it was too late.

A dark-haired elf was walking through the camp, followed by several Awakened ones. Asha’nan’len cursed and gave the baby to Sulan. She stood up, and closed her eyes, calling her black armor with magic.  
“Take Dirthamen and run. You can’t win this fight.” she said and turned away, walking down to face the elf. He had seen her, because he stood waiting, watching her picking her way pass the soldiers.  
“Dirthamen?” Sulan repeated, watching the baby at his arms. “Dirthamen, as a God of Secrets of old?”  
The infant looked at him with dark eyes, and started to cry.

“My lady.” the man bowed with mocking flourish. “We were wondering who had taken Mythal’s baby. The act wasn’t flashy enough for Elgar’nan, so we’ve been hunting for Senris instead. It was my dear wife who finally suggested it might have been you.”  
“I’m not your lady, Anaris.” Asha’nan’len said coldly. “And you will not have my brother. This is your one chance to turn away and leave.”  
“Big words from a girl who is barely in her six hundreds.” Anaris snickered. “I have to admit; I’m a bit disappointed if you truly look like that. If you do, I have to execute my entire intelligence network for epic failure. You were supposed to be the fairest of the land. Eldest’s little princess. I’ve always wondered his motives on that.”  
“Don’t you dare to slander Elgar’nan! He is my father, not my lover, you filthy stone bastard!” she screamed, and Anaris raised his hand, drowning her in living flame.

The people were screaming and running all around the camp like headless chickens. Sulan felt like someone had suddenly plunged him in a cold water and then to flames, which engulfed Asha’nan’len. She burned brightly like a light of sun, and he could see her hair catching fire, the pale skin blackening. He simply could not wrap his mind around it. A husband she did not want. Anaris, once known as Lord of Pestilence. The baby in his arms, crying desolately, was Mythal’s. Asha’nan’len had called him Dirthamen, who had died in the beginning of last great war six hundred years ago. A father who had left with her, who had named her, who had killed her lover. Elgar’nan, God of Vengeance. What did it make of her? What did it make of Sulan himself?

When he saw Asha’nan’len stepping out from the flames, wearing her true face and attacking Anaris, Sulan turned away and ran.

 

10.

Sulan had no idea how long he had ran, or which direction he had taken, but he could no longer hear the sounds of the battle. He had glanced over his shoulder once, and seen a huge stone creature towering over the meager trees growing in the swamp. A black dragon circled around it, screaming and spitting electricity.  
He had not looked back again.

It was fully dark now, and he was worried about walking accidentally into morass. The baby was still crying, and he tried to soothe him, worried what kind of creatures his sobbing might call.  
“Hush, little one.” he said. “I’m sure she’ll handle it. We can just... wait here. Or something.”  
“This is a cold night to wander alone in a swamp.” a voice said nearby, and when Sulan turned around, he saw a bald elven man holding a lantern. He had a small boat, and he nodded to Sulan.  
“If you want, I can offer you a lift on the edge of swamp.”  
“How I know I can trust you?” Sulan asked. “If you are another member of her horrible family, forget it. The baby shouldn’t have to deal with your lot.”  
“Her horrible family?” the man arched his eyebrows.  
“Do you think I’m an idiot? You, an elf, just happen to row in the middle of the night in desolate swamp, when there are ancient elven gods romping around and setting people on fire, and ruining everything. I’m not going to give our baby to you.” Sulan said resolutely, cradling Dirthamen protectively.  
“Our baby?” the man repeated, a sudden glee flashing in his expression.  
“Mine, and hers.” Sulan told him firmly. “It’s nurture versus nature. He likes me, and none of you deserve to have a baby.”  
“I think you are quite right on that account.” the man said slowly, watching him with interested blue-grey eyes. “It was wise to run instead of staying to fight. Probably saved your life, and his.”  
Sulan did not answer, but watched the stranger carefully.  
“Let me offer you a deal.” the strange elf said. “I will take you to safety. During our journey through the swamp, you will tell me how you ended up in here with an elvhen baby. Then I will let you leave.”  
“Let me leave or let me leave with the baby?” Sulan asked.  
“You are a clever one, indeed.” the elf smiled. “You may call me Solas.”

The mist had risen from the swamp, and Sulan couldn’t see much further than the edges of Solas’ little boat. Dirthamen had finally stopped crying and slept. Lacking anything to keep him warm, Sulan had finally put the baby between his undershirt and outer robe. It wasn’t practical arrangement for walking, but he had decided to believe Asha’nan’len would find them sooner than later.  
“You look worried.” Solas remarked.  
“Of course I’m worried.” Sulan said. “It’s extremely unsettling to see someone set woman I love in fire.”  
“What you are doing here, then, instead of there?” Solas asked dryly.  
“She told me to run. And I can’t fight. I’m a pacifist.” Sulan replied. “It is one thing which should be different in this country. If people pay violence back with violence, we will be caught into spiral which never ends. Having freedom to do what we want is a wonderful thing, but the lowest level of public administration is so corrupt that nobody dares to apply for their justice. Like soldiers. Do you think it’s fair that they demand sexual favors from new mother with a baby if she seeks shelter from cold? I’m lucky, since I have a skill I can trade, but it’s not always safe for me either.”  
“What would you do to change it?”  
“We need more idealists. Open universities. Give them free education, give them a place for few years where they can believe in better world until that belief is strong enough not to be shaken off by what they see outside.”, Sulan was getting warmed to his topic. “Then spread them across Thedas. Place them in guard cabins, villages, and open schools so they can teach people.”  
“You are practically suggesting what organized religion does, complete with missionaries.” Solas pointed out.  
“People need to believe in something. I don’t believe in any sorts of gods. I’m atheist, and I think that placing one’s faith in ideal is always better bet than placing it on one man or woman. I believe in peace, but peace doesn’t come and order me to do things. I have to decide by myself what to do. Ideals act like spell components. They don’t cast anything, but they serve as my tools of trade.”

They argued the politics for a long time, until Sulan noticed his stomach starting to grumble. He had no idea how long it had been, but the mist still hang heavy in the air, blocking his vision in less than a meter from boat’s side.  
“I’m sorry.” he apologized. “Asha’nan’len says I talk until people are willing to tell anything just to get some peace and quiet.”  
“That is the name she goes on with these days?” Solas asked.  
“She told me that was the name her father gave her when she became adult.”  
“Of course.” Solas snorted. “It takes certain kind of man to name his daughter after himself.”  
Solas was quiet for a while, deep in thought, and something in his expression made Sulan uneasy. When the man raised his gaze again, there was a glimmer Sulan did not like.  
“Tell me, Sulan, what are you going to do after our ways part?”  
“I wait.” he offered hesitantly. “She told me that if something happens, I should go to my parent’s house with the baby and wait for her there.”  
“Yes, but after that.” Solas said patiently. “What will you do after she comes back for the baby?”  
Sulan had the uncomfortable feeling that his life hanged on his answer. He couldn’t tell why the little hairs on his neck had suddenly stood up, but he had learned to trust the gut feeling on rare occasions it happened.  
“I imagine we would talk.” he began a bit nervously. “We didn’t have time for... anything, really. I tell her that I love her. And then I’ll ask if she will take me with her when she leaves, and I hope she says yes.”  
“You said you were atheist.” Solas pointed out. “And you would leave with a goddess?”  
“I don’t worship her that way. Besides, if she were a goddess, shouldn’t she be luckier than she has been? If there were gods, I would think they arrange their business better than mortals do. In Asha’nan’len’s case, it’s been more like opposite.”  
“And you would change that?” Solas asked sarcastically.  
“It’s not just my decision! I can’t push myself on her, thinking that it’s best and everything. She might like someone else better. She might not like me at all, although I think she does.” Sulan was starting to grow annoyed. “All I can do is ask, and let her choose whether I am what she wants.”  
The expression on Solas’ face changed.  
“Very well.” he said lightly. “Our journey is finished.”  
Sulan heard the ship hitting the shore, and his eyes widened.  
“Just now? Just like this?”  
“Yes.” Solas said. “You have an hour’s walk to your parent’s house. You may leave with your baby.”  
Not wanting to push his luck any further, Sulan climbed out from the boat. The mist was dissolving in most curious way, opening him a trail to follow.  
“One thing.” Solas said behind Sulan’s turned back.  
“Yes?” Sulan said. He saw the shadow of a boat reflecting on the ground, but there was something wrong with it. It wasn’t a shape of a man, but something far larger. It climbed out from the boat.

A giant wolf with six red eyes walked past Sulan, and turned to look at him. It spoke with Solas’ voice.  
“If you betray my daughter, you will never have a good night’s sleep again.” the wolf growled. “This is a promise for you from the lord of Nightmares.”  
“A shovel talk? A giant wolf giving me a shovel talk?” Sulan asked, feeling hysterical.  
“You will see far worse things if you insist courting my daughter.” the wolf said. “But I will have many happy nights imagining what Elgar’nan will say about you. That is reason enough to let you live, even if I didn’t like you. I wish you luck, Sulan of Serault.”  
The wolf winked at him with three eyes and leaped in the mist, vanishing from his sight.

When the mist cleared, Sulan recognized the small road which was no further than hour’s walk from Serault. But there was no water around them anywhere.

 

11.

Asha’nan’len had never fought a god for real before. Senris, of course, and papae, but she had always known they would not hurt her permanently. Getting trashed had meant listening an hour of nagging about her technique and another spent at healer to fix her injuries, not living forever with a broken skull or cracked spine. But it was soon clear that this was not a fight to pull her punches, and Anaris was not in the same league as kossith, terrifying as they were.

She had known that a man who had knocked Andruil out in single combat had to be good, and although Asha’nan’len was better fighter than either of her brothers, she was no Andruil. Maybe one day, but she was still in her six hundreds, a little better than a teenager in elvhen standards.  
She grimaced as Anaris got a good one through her shields. The impact threw her on the abandoned campsite, and as she rose up, her mental wards tingled with a signal of Dirthamen leaving, followed by much fainter trace of Sulan’s departure.  
She changed her form, screaming challenge at Anaris to distract him from Dirthamen fleeing into safety, and thanked All-Father for the mercy that her dragon form was no longer as ridiculous as last time on Thedas. Tyrion’s death had matured it significantly. She could live with iridescent blue hues on black; they were quite beautiful, but the pink snout and horns were mercifully was gone, changed into deep ruby red. Of course, had she still been baby pink, she might have killed Anaris with laughter.

\--

Anaris was quite impressed. Elgar’nan’s little girl was putting up a decent fight. With exception of Elgar’nan and Andruil, Creators usually eschewed a physical confrontation, preferring to rely on magic. She had lasted far longer than he had originally expected.  
“It’s a pity fate took this path.”, he said, spitting blood on the ground. “You would have been far prettier bride than the one I got. And better fighter. I’ve never liked rift magic. I hate finding a rift in the bedroom, sucking in all my dirty clothes I was planning to still wear.”  
Her face was pale under blood and dirt, and she looked mortally frightened. Of course she was. All people were, when they understood they were going to die.  
“What manner of spirit you were?” Anaris asked conversationally, cutting though her weakened barriers and grasping her wrist. “I need to know so I can carve an epitaph on your tombstone.”  
He twisted her wrist until he heard the bones breaking and sword fell from her limp fingers. At the same time, something foreign and rosy-colored, a light, rose through her skin, spreading from her to his skin. It attacked him, carving way through his flesh and filling his veins with merciless flames.  
“A spirit of Love.” she said. “Pain is a door, and you opened it for me.”

 

Asha’nan’len had always been somewhat uneasy with her true nature. All others had something imposing and stylish. It sounded much better to be Vengeance, Loyalty or Justice than silly thing like Love. Senris had always claimed her nature wasn’t as useless as she claimed, but now that Asha’nan’len had tried it as her last resource, she found the results very worrying.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Anaris said suddenly, the rosy glow of sun’s essence still sinking inside his skin.  
“Are you certain?” Asha’nan’len asked, crouching down and picking up her sword with her uninjured hand.  
“No. Why would I try to kill you? Like I was saying, you are younger, prettier and better fighter than my current wife. I’m going to marry you instead, just like I originally planned.”  
He looked extremely pleased with idea. Asha’nan’len took quickly few steps backwards, retreating.  
“You are already bonded, Anaris.” she pointed out, not liking the change of discussion. “To my mother!”  
“It’s not a problem. In Third Elvhenan, anyone can have as many partners as they want. This is a liberal society, and singular bonds are so old-fashioned.”, Anaris shrugged.  
“But you are bonded to _my mother!_ ” she repeated, horrified. He had to be joking. This was some ploy, or she had done something wrong. The essence of sun was supposed to burn people into ashes. It happened so every time Elgar’nan used it on someone.  
“My bond with my current wife is political.” Anaris said, advancing closer. “It’s nothing like ours will be.”  
“We, as you and me, don’t have a bond. Never will have a bond. You are already bonded, a dwarf, and thousands of years older than me!”  
“Older men are more experienced. And for you, I can take whatever form you like best.” Anaris offered graciously. “I will worship you like goddess you are. The passion of our lovemaking will break continents.”  
Asha’nan’len could have died for embarrassment.  
“Falon’Din!” she screamed, using the last of her magic to call to her brother through the Beyond.  
“Why did you do that?” Anaris asked, a violent flash passing through his love-struck eyes. “I don’t like other people coming between us.”  
“I’m not a wench you can pick up from battlefield.” Asha’nan’len said haughtily, praying that Falon’Din had heard her plea and would come quickly. “I’m lady of Wrath and Thunder, and you will address me according to my station. Which means that you must convince my brother of depth of your feelings before you earn a right to ask permission to court me.”  
Anaris made an unhappy noise.  
“But it’s so damned slow! You and me, princess. A heat of battle still coursing through our veins. Have you ever tried making love on battlefield over the slain corpses of your enemies? Nothing gets blood pumping like that. And love between gods is entirely different thing than between mere immortals. I would fill every corner of your body and mind until you ached with me.”  
Asha’nan’len felt ill. Sun’s essence had backfired horribly.  
“There aren’t any slain enemies. Unless you thought to slay me?” she asked hopefully. “I can work with that. Let’s forget this and continue to try to kill each other.”  
“No.”, Anaris disagreed. “I don’t want to kill you. Except with pleasure.”

When Falon’Din finally arrived, Asha’nan’len was at end of her rope. Anaris had pleaded her until she had given him permission to heal her broken wrist, thinking it would be useful. He had healed it – by kissing and licking it better in the process. Now Asha’nan’len fought the desperate urge to sink her hand into boiling water or tar to forget the yucky sensation. Seeing a grey dragon landing on the battlefield felt like seeing a relief patrol, and she was running towards him even before Falon’Din had transformed.  
“Brother!” she cried out loudly, hugging him. “Help me.”, she hissed in Falon’Din’s ear. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

At least Falon’Din had an excellent poker face, Asha’nan’len thought gloomily. Her brother had listened Anaris’ lyrical proclamations of love for better part of early morning, and not laughed aloud, although the corners of his mouth were twitching suspiciously when Anaris said something especially terrible and embarrassing. Maybe she was cursed. Every time she met her brother and wanted to make a good expression, something went wrong.  
“So you are in love with my sister.” Falon’Din said. “I’m naturally curious on how this happened.”  
“I will never forget the exact moment it happened.” Anaris said, sighing softly. “I had just broken her wrist to kill her with her own sword, when she started to shine with loveliest light I’ve ever seen. It was rose-colored, running from her skin to mine. A passion courses through my veins now, and I burn with need to love her and worship her like the goddess she is.”  
“For last time, Anaris, I’m not a goddess.” Asha’nan’len snapped. “Or a Creator.”  
“You are the goddess of my heart, now and forever.” Anaris smiled at her. He was a handsome man when he smiled, Asha’nan’len noted. But still, no. Just no.  
“Has this burn… lessened in any way as time has passed?” Falon’Din asked carefully.  
“It’s unquenchable flame of love which burns in my heart. A lesser man than me would undoubtedly been consumed by strength of his own feelings and waste away in throes of unrequited passion.” Anaris said severely.  
“I see.” Falon’Din said, and Asha’nan’len just knew he was howling with hysterical laughter inside his mind.  
“It is good to know that you are serious, but we need more than that. There are certain requirements you must fulfill before I can agree to your claim.” Falon’Din said.  
Anaris wasn’t pleased to hear about delay.  
“If you kill Falon’Din, I will cry.” Asha’nan’len warned.  
“I would treasure each of your tears, but your smiles are even more precious to me.”, Anaris said gruffly.  
“Like I said, my sister is a lady of noble house. You might not have a problem with your previous bond, but she shouldn’t have to share with others, especially a member of priest class.”, Falon’Din said snobbishly, his voice dripping disdain. “You must make your current wife to agree to divorce before I can give my leave for you to court my sister.”  
“Break off a bond? It has never been done before.” Anaris looked unsure.  
“Don’t you love me enough?” Asha’nan’len asked. “If you have another wife, she demands your love and attention. My father will not give my bond to someone who isn’t committed.”  
“I’m loath to leave you, but don’t worry, vhenan. I will do what you ask and find you when I’m free man.”, Anaris promised. He grabbed Asha’nan’len in his arms and kissed her. Entirely for too long, in Asha’nan’len’s opinion, and he only stopped when she slammed her knee into his stomach.

They watched a huge rock wraith disappearing in the distance.  
“He was supposed to burn into ashes.” Asha’nan’len said between her gritted teeth. “I don’t know what in the Void went wrong. When father uses the same trick, it kills everyone.”  
“Oh, sister, how I have missed you. You have always such amusing problems.” Falon’Din said. Laughter sparked in his voice as he hugged her from behind.  
“If you don’t stop laughing at my misery, I’m not going to take you to Dirthamen.”  
“You have him?!”  
“Of course I have him. Why else would I do something as desperate as that?” Asha’nan’len nodded towards the direction where Anaris had gone.  
“Then I suggest that we collect him and leave before Lord of Pestilence is once again a free man.”, Falon’Din said. “Unless you actually want to marry him.”  
“If you keep teasing me, I’ll tell him that I want to share him with you.” she sniffed. “You liked giant creatures.”  
“Not with giant cocks, you little terror.” Falon’Din ruffled her hair.  
“Do you know where Serault is?” Asha’nan’len asked.  
“I haven’t got the faintest idea.” Falon’Din shrugged. “Sounds like a boring shemlen place.”  
“I think we should go to north. Quickly, before Anaris comes back.” she said and started to pick her way through the ruined campsite.  
"It is said that love gives you wings.", Falon'Din remarked in sugary voice.  
_"Shut up._ "

12.

“I’ve heard that there might be a Dalish Clan in few days’ journey to north.” Jeannette said as she put another bucket filled with potatoes to peel in front of Sulan. “They might take the child.”  
“I’ve already told you.” Sulan said. “I’m not giving him away to strangers. He’s my baby.”  
Lucillus snorted as he collected the bucket of peels to take to stables.  
“So our great explorer, who swore to travel around Thedas and find the unseen wonders, believed some knife-ear wench’s assurances of his paternity despite the ears. And good Fade spirits leave babies on people’s doorstep if they pray Andraste very hard.”  
“Insulting people whom you haven’t even met is a clear evidence of your own simple-mindedness.”, Sulan snapped to his siblings as they left. He wasn’t normally as irritable, but the last three weeks in his parents’ cottage had been very trying time. He had remembered why he left Serault in first place. His father still recounted the tale how he had been to Val Royeaux once fifteen years ago, when he had delivered an order of glass for eluvian production. Trying to explain that eluvians were produced in Halamshiral, and Val Royeaux did not have factories of any kind – it was far too banal for Orlesian nobility – didn’t work any better than on Sulan’s last visit at home, three years ago. His siblings were happy with their small lives, centered on the village. Five of them were working at the factory, and the sole exception, Sulan’s youngest sister, was washing laundry at Marquis’ castle to earn big enough dowry to marry a pig farmer. Sulan bringing home an elf baby was the scandal of the century. As evidenced by forty-three villagers who had invented some excuse to come into mother’s back garden and have a peek at the baby. Since the village population was around two-hundred and fifty, every family had to be well informed by now.

Dirthamen didn’t seem to mind. Maybe Creators were accustomed to being stared at. Sulan had dressed him into little green smock with ravens, because not a single member of his family believed the green buttons were emeralds. Silk was fancy southerner fabric worn only by women of ill repute. Now the baby was sleeping in old crib Sulan had borrowed from one of his sister-in-laws.

Sulan had just passed another peeled potato to Lucillus to chop when he felt a sudden surge of magic. It was alarmingly strong, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Dropping his knife, he stood up and picked Dirthamen up. He wasn’t sure what he would do if it was another rock monster or giant wolf, but---

To his horror, Sulan saw a whole cadre of black-armored warriors marching towards his parents’ house. They wore similar armor to Asha’nan’len, and the tattoos on their faces reminded him of baby’s hat.  
Asha’nan’len was hurrying ahead of them, looking very different than last time they had met. The gown of palest lavender was so thin that one could almost see through it, but not quite, and the fabric flowed behind her as she almost ran to fence.  
“You survived.”, Sulan said, unable to keep the smile off his face as he wiped his wet hands on his trousers and then reached over the fence to touch her.  
Asha’nan’len smiled and it was like sun shining. Dirthamen made a cooing noise at something, waving his hands, but Sulan didn’t want to be distracted just now. He brushed his fingers against her cheek, feeling her warmth. Securing the baby in the crook of his arm, he pulled her gently closer for a kiss.

Their sweet reunion was rudely interrupted by a spell which grabbed the baby from Sulan’s arms and sent him flying against a wall of his father’s shed. He had never felt such an agony. The pain was sharp, and magic cut him bone-deep. His fuzzy mind barely comprehended the absence of wounds, but the agony was real. His muscles spasmed, and his mouth opened to wordless scream.  
Asha’nan’len was there in heartbeat. She kneeled down, placing her hands on his temples and her blue eyes narrowed as she released her mana. Sulan felt dizzy as the piercing agony was suddenly taken away, and he felt her magic shielding him, soothing his hurts and healing them. It was like he saw everything through a faint shimmery glow. Something red crashed the barrier, but it held on.  
She turned away, looking furious, and stomped her foot. Asha’nan’len emitted a lengthy, angry rant in elvish, striding to a blond elven man dressed in glorious robes who was holding the baby now. A shorter, dark-haired man was standing next to him, trying very hard not to laugh. Sulan had no idea what was going on. The dark-haired man caught his dazed expression, and with a wave of his fingers, flung a spell towards Sulan. It passed through Asha’nan’len’s barrier, and when the cold feeling passed, Sulan suddenly understood what she was yelling.  
“Don’t you dare to do that ever again, father!” she was livid and her eyes were shining like molten gold. “You have no business attacking my shemlen! If you try to put a death spell on him again, I will turn it back on you.”  
The blond man seemed unthreatened.  
“I’d like to know how you interrupted my spell at first place.” he remarked with interest. “It has not happened before. It is designed to cut through all shields.”  
“I’m not going to discuss magic techniques with you, father!” she stomped her foot with irritation. “Listen to me. You will not, under any circumstances, touch my shemlen again. They are fragile and easily hurt. He was no threat, and he was _helping_.”  
“Yes, helping with smooching.” the dark man chuckled. “And you blame me for exotic appetites.”  
“Shut up, brother.” she turned towards dark man. “Helping with _the baby_.”  
“You can’t blame me for misunderstanding the situation. What I was supposed to think? I had to storm in Anaris’ stronghold and interrupt an unwanted bonding ceremony just yesterday!” the blond man defended himself. “Not that I didn’t enjoy killing him, naturally, but you can’t blame me if I’m feeling somewhat protective right now.”  
Asha’nan’len sighed.  
“You are right, father.” she said. “I am very grateful for your protection, and your dramatic entrance was wonderful, although I wish you wouldn’t have waited until last possible moment. It was unnerving. And I thank you for your well-timed escape so you could get father, Falon’Din. But still, papae, Sulan has helped me and Dirthamen. He is no Anaris.”  
“Very well. You can have your shemlen.” the blond man said annoyed. “But we need to focus on more important things. I must rescue my vhenan, and you are going straight home, daughter. And you will stay there until we have figured out what went wrong with Anaris. The Forgotten Ones will surely retaliate.”  
Her face fell.  
“You are sending me back, papae? Why Falon’Din can stay?”  
“Because Falon’Din can fend for himself. You are too young for Thedas. This is a disgusting place, and not fit for young elvhen. Not for you, and not for Dirthamen. You will be home at sundown.” the man said with voice which brooked no argument.  
“But papae...” she said, looking forlorn.  
“No.”, he said with finality. “This is not a matter open for debate.”  
“Yes, my lord.” she said, bowing in formal manner, and the men left with Dirthamen and soldiers.

“Are you all right?” she asked Sulan.  
“I think so.”, he said, testing his limbs as he stood up. “Was that your father?”  
“Yes. I’m sorry, Sulan. You did not deserve what he did.” Asha’nan’len sighed. “He misunderstood the situation.”  
“I heard.” he said, taking her hand. “Your... brother. Did a spell or something. I know you are leaving.”  
Her expression was sad.  
“It’s not by choice, Sulan. But I’m bound to my father’s will, and I can’t disobey, no matter what I want. I’m his creature. A cherished child, but no less bound than his other servants.” Asha’nan’len said quietly.  
“It’s terrible.” he blurted, his mind reeling at thought of not being able to choose.  
“It is a different world, Sulan.” she said gently. “There is no use for you to make yourself upset over something which happened hundreds of years ago. I don’t remember any other life.”  
“How old are you? Who are you?” Sulan asked.  
“Six hundred and fourteen.” her smile was fragile. “And I’m the only daughter of Elgar’nan, God of Vengeance.”  
“Good.” Sulan said briskly.  
“Good?” she repeated, clearly not understanding.  
“Your father said, although his choice of words was insulting, that ‘you can have your shemlen’. I could come with you, if you want.” he offered. “I’ve remembered why I never liked Serault much in the first place, and I was planning to ask you anyway. Now that your father has given permission, it’s up to you.”  
“Are you serious?” her lips parted in surprise. “It is one-way journey, Sulan. Elgar’nan does not allow any except his bound servants to leave Vhen’alas once they have entered. He doesn’t let even Falon’Din come.”  
“My family will be perfectly content with letters.” Sulan remarked. “And I love you.”  
He would never forget the pure happiness lighting up her face.  
“You do?” she asked almost shyly.  
“I do.”, he said, pulling her closer for a kiss. This time, nobody interrupted.

 

13.

“My lord.” Senris called him. “Come and see.”  
“What is it?” Elgar’nan asked, not bothering to rise from the bed just yet.  
“Little lady has returned. With a shemlen who looks like a scarecrow.” Senris’ voice dripped with distaste and something else. Shock?  
“They are in the garden. And she is digging.”  
“Digging?” Elgar’nan started to feel alarmed.  
“With a garden shovel, my lord.” Senris said. There was a slightly hysterical tinge in his dry voice. “They are planting flowers.”  
“You are joking.” Elgar’nan said, bolted up and ran to window, pushing Senris aside.

His daughter was on her knees in his garden, digging a hole in the mud. A shemlen man with untidy hair and too short robe which revealed bony ankles, was holding a small baby. His daughter turned to address him, and he dug his pockets for moment before offering her a flower bulb. Their fingertips touched, and Elgar’nan saw the soft glow of his daughter’s smile, mirrored by obvious warmth in shemlen’s eyes.  
“Oh, no, not _again_.” Elgar’nan groaned.  
“Precisely, my lord.” Senris said gloomily.  
“How long do shemlen even live these days?” Elgar’nan asked.  
“Maybe forty or fifty years from now.” Senris appraised darkly.  
They didn’t seem to care about that in his garden. Siona was finishing filling the small hole in the dirt, when the shemlen sat down, oblivious to wet ground, and took the shovel from her. He carefully took baby’s chubby hand and guided their fingers around haft, helping Dirthamen to flatten the surface. His manner was, much to Elgar’nan’s chagrin, quite natural and even fatherly as he explained something to a baby who was too young to understand a word. Elgar’nan’s daughter shook her head and laughed. The sound was fresh and bright in god’s ears, filled with happiness, light and all good things.  
“What will we do?” Senris’ question was almost a plea for help.  
“Start stocking up the ice cream for his eventual death.” Elgar’nan sighed. “And in the meanwhile, try to figure a polite way to make him a little less sore on the eye.”  
  
\--

Fen’Harel was not surprised when he heard thunder rolling on the sky. He watched the pretty lightning striking across the sky, and asked a servant to bring the best bottle from his cellars.  
“There is something wrong with weather, your Imperial Majesty.”, the worrying servant said as he put two glasses on the table. “I have never seen thunderstorm in winter.”  
“I’ve learned that this particular storm doesn’t care much about seasons.” Fen’Harel said dryly and changed his ink-stained tunic to one of his nicer outfits. “Tell the kitchen to send up a tray of fluffy cakes.”

He didn’t have to wait for long. A thunder crashed just above his palace and lighting struck down in the garden, splitting his marble statue of Wisdom in two.  
“Fen’Harel!” he heard Elgar’nan’s roar. “Stop hiding inside your hut and take responsibility of your actions like a man!”  
Fen’Harel was far too shrewd to answer. He peeked behind curtains, and grimaced as he saw Elgar’nan ruining the rest of his statues with well-aimed lightings. It was time to intervene before he destroyed Fen’Harel’s favorite beyond repair.

“Elgar’nan.” Fen’Harel said strictly. “If you ruin Siona’s statue, I will never forgive you.”  
“This one?” Elgar’nan said, glaring at the marble figure under an apple tree. “Your sculptor must have been drunk. There is no likeness at all. Her nose looks as ugly as yours.”  
“I sculpted it.”, Fen’Harel said, crossing his arms over his chest. “From an image of her original form. The one she was born with.”  
“By Void!” Elgar’nan looked at statue again, his blue eyes widening. “I don’t recall her ever looking that horrible.”  
“She looks like my mother.”  
“No wonder why you don’t have siblings. Or was your father blind?” Elgar’nan inquired sweetly.  
“Did you have any particular reason coming here tonight, or did you just come to insult my whole line?” Fen’Harel asked.  
“So good that you asked.” Elgar’nan said, walking towards Fen’Harel. “I just sat through the most uncomfortable family dinner ever, watching my daughter beaming at ugly shemlen who dresses worse than you. He looks like a scarecrow and doesn’t even speak elvish! And the stubble! Fenedhis, Fen’Harel!”  
“Oh. I take it that you have met Sulan of Serault, too.” Fen’Harel said, unable to keep his expression neutral. “Did he tell you he’s a pacifist and a libertarian?”  
“That too?” Elgar’nan groaned. “Oh, Void, what a ninny.”  
“I rather liked him.” Fen’Harel remarked.  
“You would.” Elgar’nan said darkly. “But you are not the one who has to deal with Asha’nan’len after the creature dies. How long the shemlen lifespan even is these days? Forty years from now?”  
“For a death by natural causes, it’s likely.” Fen’Harel considered.  
“You didn’t think this through, Fen’Harel.” Elgar’nan said unhappily. “Not at all.”  
“But wouldn’t it be better to love and be loved even for a short time?”  
“No, it would not.” Elgar’nan snapped. “Do you have anything to drink? I hate it when I have to explain the simplest things to you, you stupid Wolf.”

“I have never heard of a car.”, Fen’Harel wrinkled his brow.  
“Neither had I.”, Elgar’nan said, pouring himself another glass. “But do you understand why I don’t like you introducing potential heartbreaks to my daughter?”  
“I do.”, Fen’Harel admitted, shaking his head. “I don’t like the thought of her traipsing around the parallel worlds with Forbidden Ones. Who in her right mind would put herself inside a metal cage with wheels? I could think less painless ways to die. And Imshael is not good company for anyone.”  
“It took better part of a hundred years for her to overcome that last disappointing boy.” Elgar’nan said gloomily. “Why she has such atrocious taste in men?”  
“Ellana claimed that girls pick men who resemble their father.” Fen’Harel remarked.  
“You just managed to insult both of us in same sentence.” Elgar’nan snorted.  
“It’s an accomplishment.” Fen’Harel noted. “But I have a proposition. When Sulan is getting old and grey, send them both here. I can try to soothe things. People die here all the time. It’s considered natural.”  
“It can’t go much worse than the last time.” Elgar’nan said unhappily. “I will hold you personally responsible for everything he causes.”  
“Me?” Fen’Harel protested. “Why not Sulan himself?”  
“He is beneath my notice. I refuse to talk to creature who doesn’t have sense to cover his bony ankles.” Elgar’nan said, taking a fluffy cake from tray. He took a bite and then pushed the cake away, looking much cheered up.  
“Your fluffy cakes are bad. Cakes in my kingdom are clearly superior.”  
“Someone stole all bakers, confectioners and tailors as he left.”, Fen’Harel said acidly. “I’m trying to make do with what is left.”  
“I could bring you a small box next time I stop by.” Elgar’nan remarked. “Just so you know what you have lost.”  
“Next time?”  
“If you think you can hoist a shemlen on me and run away from your responsibilities, think again. “

\--

“I think the Creature might have infected Asha’nan’len with some kind of nasty disease.” Elgar’nan said when he came by next time, almost an year later. He had brought the promised fluffy cakes, and Fen’Harel hated him for that. They truly were significantly better than anything he could get, and he was the Emperor of Third Elvhenan. Dread Wolf hated them so much that he had to take another bite.  
“What kind of disease? Measles again?” Fen’Harel asked.  
“A stomach flu.” Elgar’nan said unhappily. “Asha’nan’len just sleeps and can’t eat anything. Yesterday a perfectly good chocolate mousse sent her running to bathroom. Even the Creature is worried. He tried to coax her to eat an excellent steak and some cognac strawberries, but she took one look at them and turned greenish. A bad color on her.”  
“Maybe it is a stomach flu.” Fen’Harel said. “Or she’s pregnant.”  
“What did you say?”  
“I said that maybe she’s pregnant.”  
“She can’t be.”  
“No father believes that of her daughter, but—“  
“I mean she technically can’t be.” Elgar’nan cut in. “She is not an elvhen. She is a spirit.”  
“What?” Fen’Harel was shocked.  
“She died when she was thirteen.” Elgar’nan explained. “When I was poisoned. I fixed it. “  
“Why didn’t you say anything?”  
“She got better.”  
“Dead people just don’t get better.” Fen’Harel snapped.  
“They don’t get pregnant, either.” Elgar’nan said lightly. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a good thing. Last thing we need in Vhen’alas is more ugly creatures running about. Those bony ankles cry for extinction.”  
“Don’t you have anything good to say about him?” Fen’Harel queried.  
“The Creature?”  
“Sulan.”  
Elgar’nan thought long and hard.  
“I don’t think I have to kill him before he dies of natural causes.” he finally offered.  
“Natural causes including or excluding well-aimed paternal lighting?” Fen’Harel asked sarcastically.  
“Being hit by lightning is about as likely as being eaten by a stray wolf. While he sleeps.” Elgar’nan noted.

\--

“I have something to show you, Fen’Harel.” Elgar’nan said, looking absolutely smug.  
“More fluffy cakes?” Fen’Harel asked although he hated himself a bit for asking.  
“Better.” Elgar’nan replied, and sat down in a rocking chair. Pulling the folds of his cloak carefully aside, he revealed a little thing sleeping in the crook of his arm.  
“What is that?” Fen’Harel asked, his eyes wide.  
“My first non-monstrous grandchild.” Elgar’nan said proudly. “Isn’t she pretty?”  
“But you said Siona couldn’t—“  
“Apparently, when there is a will, there is a way.” Elgar’nan noted. “I’m not sure how she did it, but I’m staking my money on divine intervention. She is a Creator and a spirit of Love, even though she denies it.”  
Fen’Harel stared at sleeping baby, who looked like an elf.  
“But she doesn’t look like a human at all.”  
“That’s the best part!” Elgar’nan exclaimed. “I even congratulated the Creature for not passing his ugly traits on, and we had an argument about genetics. The Creature thought that something as stupid as recessive genetics would apply to _my_ daughter, and I told him that gods don’t have to play by petty rules. He is somewhat shocked for not having a human-looking baby. I’m pleased. No bony ankles, no fur, no round ears. She takes after her mother, mostly. I offered to change the color of her eyes from muddy brown to much more elegant blue, but the Creature was so offended that Asha’nan’len wouldn’t agree.”  
Elgar’nan brushed his fingers over the perfectly pointy little tips of baby’s ears, radiating smugness.  
“Of course.” he sobered, “there is a drawback. I already warned Asha’nan’len about it. Her baby might not inherited the Creature’s ears, but it’s merely a cosmetic change. The little one has her father’s lifespan and mortality. A hundred years and she will be gone.”  
Fen’Harel reached to touch his grandchild with tentative fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment, and felt the flame of life burning brightly inside the infant. It was not the slow glow of elvhen, but the bright burn which would consume her life in mere decades.  
“You are right.” he sighed. “What does Siona say?”  
“Asha’nan’len is too pleased to care. She is having time of her life, playing house with Creature and the baby.” Elgar’nan shook his head gently. “She’s taken up gardening again and is _happy_. No need to spoil her happiness just now.”  
“I never took you for an old sop.”, Fen’Harel said warmly.  
“I’m not.” Elgar’nan sniffed. “But I should go back before Asha’nan’len notes her baby is missing and freaks out.”  
“You didn’t tell her?” Fen’Harel’s eyes widened.  
“I promised to take little one for a walk so she could have some sleep. I never mentioned how far we would go.” Elgar’nan remarked.  
“You have made a habit of stealing babies.” Fen’Harel accused him.  
“You would know.” Elgar’nan said insufferably, bundled up his precious grandchild and left.

 

 

 


End file.
